


An Unexpected Turn

by aleksrothis



Series: The World Keeps Turning [3]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Discussion of Abortion, Discussion of Pregnancy, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Infidelity, M/M, Period-Typical Sexism, Trans Male Character, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7285939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleksrothis/pseuds/aleksrothis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does the future hold for Benedict Arnold - now military commandant of Philadelphia - and Benjamin Tallmadge - Washington's Spymaster.  Can their relationship survive Peggy Shippen - the most beautiful woman in the colonies - and the distant interference of John André - head of intelligence for General Clinton.</p><p>*This is the sequel to Turning Points and you should probably read that for this to make sense.*</p><p>*Now complete*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is somewhat darker than TP but the warnings and rating are for the whole story, not necessarily the first chapter. Let me know if there is anything else I should warn for.
> 
> Specific warnings for this chapter in end notes

It is nearly two weeks after the battle and they have reached the temporary camp at Morristown. The Dragoons are the last to settle, having scouted the surrounding area to ensure it is secure, and Ben is glad to finally dismount. Fortunately Hamilton had been there when they passed the picket so he doesn't need to report to Washington and gives thanks to someone, probably Caleb, when he finds his tent has already been pitched. 

It is a relief to get under the cool canvas and change out of his heavy jacket. His shirt is damp with sweat and the summer heat is making his chest ache more than usual beneath the binding. He hesitates over removing it but the thought of breathing easier is too tempting and he doesn't intend to be seen by anyone outside the dragoons for the rest of the evening.

A young ensign finds him to deliver a letter in Benedict's handwriting and, despite knowing that he had encouraged it, it is still a blow to read of his engagement to Miss Shippen. He can tell Benedict is still flattered by her interest, remembers his expression when he read out her first letter and he fears what it will do to him if she turns out to have been playing him entirely false. He hopes that is not the case though, despite the pang of jealousy.

Benedict also writes of his problems with Congress and Philadelphia society. Though they have spoken little of his financial worries, he has said enough, and he has never been shy about his quarrels with Congress and their ongoing refusal to give him either the rank or compensation he is owed. Reading between the lines, Ben can easily see how Benedict is struggling with the expensive courtship expected by the Shippens and the demands of trying to keep up with the elite.

He spends pages lavishly describing his new home, Penn Mansion, and his plans for it but Ben knows him well enough that it doesn't hide the loneliness. How he wishes he had an excuse to visit; Philadelphia is only two days' ride away but it might as well be England for how likely he is to have a chance to go and he must hope Benedict will be well alone. He wonders if he would have done better to advise him to avoid Miss Shippen entirely, given his suspicions, but it is clearly too late for that now.

Instead he writes back to tell him they are settled in Morristown for the moment, though Washington intends for them to keep moving up into New York state within a few weeks, and then up at least as far as West Point for the rest of the summer. He tries to put as much of his affection in the letter as he can without it seeming inappropriate. He wishes he could say when he will be able to pay him a visit but he doesn't want to get his hopes up unfairly.

A couple of days later, he is waiting for Caleb by the cooking fire with only the other Dragoons in earshot, when Pol sits down beside him, looking tired. "I don't know how I'm supposed to sleep between the cramps and this heat," they say, stretching their back out.

It takes a moment for their words to register, as there is a pause where they are clearly expecting him to sympathize as he normally would. Except Ben's throat has seized as the realization strikes him that his courses have yet to come this month. He hadn't registered the date until now and blood rushes in his ears as a feeling of dread rises up in him.

He meets their eyes and something of his alarm must show in his expression as Pol leads him away from the tents until they are far enough away to ensure privacy and they are calm as they ask, "You want to talk about it?"

"No." Ben doesn’t even want to think about it, what it might mean, but at the same point a list of the symptoms he has heard discussed flickers through his head. He has been feeling tired, dizzy, even nauseous but had thought it just the heat. God, please, let it just be the heat.

"Seriously," Pol says, though they don't sound it. "You look like you just heard Lee was going to get off."

"Don't even joke about that." Even in the best of moods that wouldn't be funny and they must have realized what upset him. He swallows hard and forces the words out, holding his head up. "My courses are late." Just saying it aloud makes it feel too real. He wants to believe he is worrying about nothing but at the same time he is mentally kicking himself for being so careless.

Pol's expression doesn't change and they shrug, as though it was nothing. "It's only a couple of days. It can’t be like you’ve never been late before.”

Actually, as much as he hates it, he has always been thankful how regular his cycle is, allowing him to predict when he needs to prepare. Still "I've never had cause to worry before," he snaps. His hands are shaking and he wants to throw up, that or hit something but he can't fight his own body and Arnold is too far away.

"Really?” They look intrigued now but he is too agitated to be reasonable; how can they be so calm with what he has just told them? They shake their head in fond exasperation. “Look it’s probably nothing, Boss. Try not to worry.”

That's easy for them to say when it's not them who might be... “Pol, I can’t do this.” He thinks of Abe's wife, sitting there in the tavern in Setauket with her child on her lap, helpless while they fought over the town, and his hands clench into fists. His life would effectively be over. It is a struggle to keep his breathing even and his stomach churns.

Pol puts a hand on his shoulder and it is strangely comforting. "And you're not going to have to. But we don’t need to cross that bridge just yet.” They clearly intend it to sound reassuring but he doesn't know how they can be so certain.

Ben looks at them suspiciously, but they just hold his gaze steadily until he gives in. “Right, sure, just don’t worry.” As though it really is that simple.

They clap him on the shoulder. “That’s it, Boss. I promise you, everything’s gonna be fine.”

He wants to believe it but he doesn't know how they can promise that. Now he has had the thought he can't stop his mind from considering all the ways this could play out. How will Benedict react? What if he's angry? And worse, what will Washington say? He still doesn't know how much he knows of his situation. “And in the meantime?”

Pol hasn't let go and the contact is grounding. “If I were in your shoes, I reckon I'd take some long rides."

Are they serious? “What? How exactly is that supposed to help." Do they mean go to Philadelphia? The thought of facing Benedict with such news is daunting, this would surely ruin both their lives.

“Ah, exercise is good for you," they say, with a slight smile. "And perhaps we could go for a foraging trip?”

"Foraging?” He must sound like an idiot, but he doesn't understand what they are implying.

"Yeah, I’ll show you how to find pennyroyal just in case, or for next time.”

That triggers a memory; Ben can vaguely recall Anna mentioning pennyroyal in a list of herbal remedies back when his courses had first come but he had never thought he would need that advice. Now he wishes he had listened to her more carefully but at least he is starting to see where Pol is coming from now. The one thing he is certain of is that there's not going to be a next time. This cold wash of fear has overwritten any temptation he might have felt for that.

The next couple of days are difficult. He doesn't manage to get away from camp due to Lee's ongoing court martial but Pol comes back the next evening with the herbs they'd been looking for. Even sweetened, the tea has an unpleasant, bitter aftertaste but he forces himself to thank Pol every time they bring him the cup, reminding himself it is better to be safe and how much worse the alternative would be.

After the second night in a row as Ben tosses and turns and can't sleep, Caleb demands to know what's the matter. He won’t drop it but when Ben eventually confides in him what is happening, he seems more jealous than actually upset for him. "Why didn't you tell me? Is this what you were talking to Fletcher about?"

"I didn't want to worry you," Ben says. This reaction is exactly why he hadn’t brought it up sooner.

"I knew there was something about him,” Caleb rants. “I shouldn't have let him take advantage of you."

Ben is suddenly angry at him. "Let him? Since when were you my father? It was my choice and none of your business." Caleb looks stunned but Ben isn't done, glad of the excuse to vent his temper. "If that's what you're going to be like, maybe I should share a tent with Pol."

Caleb tries to apologise but Ben is too wound up, pulls on his clothes and storms out of the tent.

When his cramps start only a day or so later, Pol shares his relief and seems to think it was just the stress, nobly resisting any urge to say how they had told so him, insisting telling him to make up with Brewster so they don't have to put up with his sulking.

Caleb is subdued but profusely apologetic and Ben knows he was only trying to protect him, but he doesn’t need that now, not when he is still caught between relief and wondering about what might have been. 

He hesitates over whether to tell Benedict anything at all, since it has come to nothing and is still considering it when Benedict turns up in camp unexpectedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a trans male character suspecting they are pregnant, followed by discussion of menstruation and period-typical contraceptives


	2. Valediction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in Turning Points you got to see Ben's POV, now you get Arnold's. I've tried to go with the show's characterisation with some historical details added in for added depth and bearing in mind the changes due to the nature of the AU. Hopefully it comes across as a balanced portrayal but if reading a sympathetic-leaning characterization of Arnold is too much for you, please turn back now.

Days later Benedict receives another letter from Benjamin. He hesitates over opening it, uncertain of Benjamin’s response to the news of his engagement and not wanting to know if this will turn out to be the end of their arrangement. He couldn't blame Benjamin if it were to be the case but he isn’t ready to let him go.

He had been uncertain about the plan from the beginning but hadn’t been about to turn down the opportunity to court a beautiful young woman. Then when he had got to know Peggy Shippen, he had been captivated by her charms. Now he dreads being forced to choose between the two of them and, if it turns out there is poison behind Peggy’s sweet lips, then he fears he has already drunk too deeply to give her up.

He cannot delay forever but waits until he is entirely alone to read the letter but he needn’t have worried. Benjamin doesn’t sound upset, if anything it is more affectionate than before, even as he congratulates him and says how he looks forward to being introduced to Miss Shippen. Benedict wonders if perhaps he is relieved at having the option of marriage closed, as though he doesn’t realize that, for all Peggy’s beauty, Benedict would cast her aside in a moment if Benjamin would change his mind.

Even knowing Benjamin will have been careful to be circumspect about his true feelings, the letter is warm when it could easily have been cold and formal. Despite their previous discussions, Benedict still feels a certain amount of relief at having Benjamin’s approval; he has quickly become enamoured with Peggy and she seems to share his ardor. Of course, Benjamin doesn't know how intimate he and Peggy have been but his approval eases some of the guilt he feels every time he lies with her.

His conscience appeased, Benedict turns back to the rest of the letter. Benjamin writes about Lee's court martial, which is still ongoing, and also reveals a probable reason for some of his difficulties with the Supreme Council of Pennsylvania, particularly Joseph Reed, who seems to have taken an inexplicable dislike to him. 

Apparently the man had used to be an advisor to Washington until it had been discovered he was exchanging letters with General Lee expressing criticisms of their commander. If he is a supporter of Lee, it is no surprise that he would want to antagonise Washington's choice of military commandant. Perhaps he even believes their commander has appointed him out of spite. Well, Benedict may not have any specific orders on that front, but that doesn’t mean he will allow the man’s bitterness to thwart his endeavours here.

Benedict is recovered enough that he no longer needs his stick for short distances but stairs remain a struggle as does any long period of time on his feet and so he ends up purchasing a carriage to allow him to get around the city freely. He quickly arranges for the phaeton to be fitted with the latest adaptations for a smoother ride, ignoring any snide comments since those making them don’t have to live with the constant low grade pain he spends his days in, don’t understand how it drains his energy.

In early July Congress returns to the city and Benedict then adds time petitioning them for the money they owe him to his routine, but they keep finding excuses to delay. He is not independently wealthy like Washington or some of the other generals. He cannot afford to support his family without pay and the sum they owe him continues to grow. How can they expect him to have kept receipts during the retreat from Quebec, he had had to prioritize lives not property. If it weren't for Hannah managing the business back in New Haven he would probably be bankrupt but he cannot ask her for funds; he will not allow his sons to struggle the way he had.

One day he is leaving the city hall after trying unsuccessfully to gain an audience once again when he is stopped just before the door by two men. He thinks he recognizes the younger one as one of the New York delegates; the man nearly as tall as him, though sallow and lanky, with a hardness behind his eyes which speaks of his war service or some similar ordeal. The other man is older, already grey, wearing a cross, but something about his eyes is familiar.

"Mr Strong, isn't it?" he says, with his best effort at a smile after a trying day. He may as well attempt politeness, even though it rarely seems effective.

"General Arnold, might I introduce Reverend Tallmadge?" Strong says, his voice raspy. "I believe you knew his son."

He is thrown completely off-balance. The thought of meeting Benjamin's father had never occurred to him and he struggles to keep his expression clear as he politely inclines his head. "Indeed, Reverend, it is a pleasure to meet you," he says, even as he registers the words; of course, it is not Benjamin they are referring to, though he cannot avoid mentioning him. "I have had the honor to serve with both of your sons, in fact. Samuel was a fine officer, I am sorry for your loss."

He sees the reverend flinch slightly and realizes his words could be taken as referring to both of them in the past tense. He rushes to reassure him. "The last I heard from Benjamin he was well."

He sees something ease in the older man's expression. Had he heard rumors about Monmouth and feared for his younger son too? "It is a great honor to meet you, General," is all he says though, no hint of such fears in his tone. "Judge Strong was held on the Jersey with Samuel and he has told me how my son spoke of your valor at Valcour Island. I hoped you might have some memory of him you could share. But you have heard from Ben recently? I haven't had a chance to tell him I am here yet."

Even knowing he needs to be cautious over how much he reveals of his closeness with Benjamin, Benedict is glad of the opportunity to speak about him. "Certainly. I heard from him just the other week. Major Tallmadge was my aide-de-camp over this last winter," he explains. "He has a very promising career ahead of him. But perhaps you would join me for a drink and we could speak further?"

He cannot share Benjamin's letters with his father - though there is nothing overtly indecent about them, someone who knows him well would surely be able to read between the lines - but he can afford to be generous.

Strong joins them and they share his carriage back to the Franklin house. Neither mentions his need to use it for such a short walk but he notices both glancing between his leg and his walking stick. It is a tangible reminder of Benjamin's affection and he can't help but hold it tight as he prepares for what may be an awkward conversation.

Though the role of aide-de-camp comes with a certain expectation of intimacy, even without anything untoward, he skirts the details of their relationship, speaking of instead of Benjamin's better qualities - his loyalty, his determination. It is no hardship to let them see his admiration for Benjamin's attitude.

He finds he likes the reverend, can see echoes of Benjamin's mannerisms in him. He can understand why Benjamin had felt the need to divert his troops to rescue him, why he finds Benedict’s words about his own father so hard to fathom. How he wishes this was the family he was to marry into, rather than the Shippen's cold disdain.

Of course, looking at Benjamin’s father, Benedict is reminded again of the age difference between them. He would guess he is probably as close in age to Benjamin's father as to him, just as Benjamin is equally between him and his eldest boy but then again Peggy is younger still.

He is careful in his wording when talking about Benjamin's current assignment; he doubts either of them is aware of the role he performs for Washington and intelligence is hardly an honorable subject to discuss. Instead he focuses on the important role of the dragoons and his regret that he is stuck here in Philadelphia rather than being a part of the war himself. Besides, he has no idea of the extent to which Congress are aware of the full details and, though he wouldn’t mind being the one to open their eyes to the realities of war, neither Washington nor Benjamin himself would thank him for it if it opens them up to greater scrutiny. Still, Strong seems friendly enough, if mostly quiet, and it cannot hurt to have someone in Congress who doesn't despise him, at least.

He is unsure if he should say anything about Benjamin's situation. He would like to reassure Benjamin’s father but he cannot be certain if Strong knows about him and, of course, neither of his guests can risk mentioning it in case he hadn't known. He finds himself wondering if he could have been as understanding as the reverend if it were one of his sons in that position and wishes he had a way to show his appreciation.

After they have left, the emptiness of the house is more obvious than before and he misses Benjamin’s company. He decides to throw himself into his courtship of Margaret Shippen; even with their engagement formalized, she is still distant but he is determined to soon make her forget all about Major John André.

Although he is dealing with people day in, day out, he feels isolated. Many of the families considered the cream of Philadelphia society left for New York with the British and those who remain are not welcoming to a former druggist, however successful his military career. Even his new connection to the Shippens hardly seems to improve their attitude towards him but he persists in trying to win over them to the Patriots' side.

The evenings are the worst: when he isn't invited to dinners, at which he spends half his time being snubbed, he spends them alone. It reminds him of the dark days immediately after Saratoga, when he often wondered why he had survived, before Benjamin came into his life, lit it up with his presence. He would take even the company of his impertinent second at this point; at their recommendation, he has indeed hired their sister as a housekeeper and she does her best to stop him brooding, but it isn’t the same. 

In that respect Miss Shippen's visits are welcome, though after she has left he feels more isolated than ever. Although their relationship is very different, Benedict can't help mentally comparing Peggy with Benjamin, thinking about how her aloof sharpness contrasts with his easy warmth. Peggy is always tense when they are together in a way Benjamin had never been, though he had had so much more to lose if they were caught together. How much he misses those moments with Benjamin when all the layers of perfect officer came off and they were down to his soft curves and eagerness to please.

Regardless of his familiarity with Benjamin's body, his lover’s masculinity has never been in question, and now Peggy's attempts at using her femininity irritate him, every giggle, every fluttering lash and perfumed note seems to contrast with Benjamin’s steadfastness. Peggy is usually silent, whereas Benjamin's muffled noises were a comfort that he was doing something right. What he wouldn't give to have Benjamin here, the chance for them to relax together. Still, he cannot deny he finds her attractive and she is attainable.

Despite her arguments for delaying their wedding day, given their regular companionship Benedict moves forward with the arrangements to move into the Penn Mansion, making it suitable for them to live in. The British stripped the house of its furniture but he sees no issue with rectifying that; this is to be his home as well as his headquarters. The state council have confiscated the possessions of many Loyalists and it seems only fitting that they should go to refurnish it.

He invites Peggy for a carriage ride, telling her he has a surprise to show him and again broaches the subject of setting a date, but once more she brushes him off with talk about finding her sister a suitor, and suitors for others of her friends too. She casually mentions having made a bet on the subject with General Cadwalader, who he had no idea she had even met, but at least he is a good patriot officer and a supporter of Washington so he can’t really complain.

Still, she blithely talks about Christmas, even next Christmas, as though it wasn't more than a year away. If she continues her late night visits, it may not end up being that far away. Then again he is being careful and as an apothecary he knows there are many remedies to prevent an unwanted pregnancy; although she hasn't mentioned it, perhaps she is taking her own precautions. It occurs to him that he never discussed such matters with Benjamin and he isn't sure if the feeling which curls through him is hope or concern. He manages to keep his expression even but makes a mental note to think of a way to work it into his next letter.

It isn’t long before the carriage pulls up outside Penn Mansion and Benedict grits his teeth as he still needs the assistance getting out. It is humiliating to have to be helped down out of the carriage like an elderly woman but he cannot deny how his leg continues to pain him.

Peggy seems outwardly unimpressed at the house and, although they are now officially engaged, refuses to enter the house unchaperoned, insisting it would be unseemly. It makes him feel plebeian when she wields her experience of society against him like this; he had been young when his father drank their fortune away and he has spent his whole life trying to catch up. 

It feels like he can never live up to the perfect image she tries to cultivate and Benedict wants to crack that perfect facade. He reminds Peggy of their arrangement, trying to shame her, but she just gives him a knowing smile, which he can’t help but share. She agrees she will visit later, after dark when she doesn’t have to worry about anyone seeing her. He tells the driver to take her home, briefly wondering what excuse she gives for being out late on the evenings she comes to him.

When he enters and finds the requested furniture delivered but not unpacked nor positioned as he had requested, he is glad she hadn’t been with him. Is basic competency too much to hope for? The commissioner of forfeiture is there in person and pretends to politeness but then has the nerve to tell him that the sequestered furniture should be sold at auction, tries to guilt him with words of how the proceeds would go to the army, when they still haven’t paid him for his service. More like the proceeds would line the pockets of the blowhards in Congress but what have they done to deserve it?

Benedict doesn’t mean to lose his temper with the man but his patience runs out at the disinterested look on his face. He shakes him, then shoves him away violently. The man scrambles to his feet, and the anger leaks out of him as he flees, leaving him more drained than before. As the door slams behind the commissioner, Benedict regrets his outburst, but it is too late to apologize. A stabbing pain in his leg forces him to lean heavily on a sheet covered chest and he is just so tired of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was writing Turning Points, I made a note of how I had adjusted my timeline to balance between the show's timings and the actual historical timeline. Not only is S3 is so out of historical continuity that I couldn't wrangle it back into place but I found it nearly impossible to reconcile the timings of happenings in Setauket with the time apparently passing in other places. Therefore all I can say is that this chapter takes place in July 1778. 
> 
> In other news, I did a bunch of research while I was trying to work in real history and so here's a fun fact for you:  
> After the Conway Cabal, General Cadwalader fought a duel with Thomas Conway in 1778 in which he wounded his opponent with a shot in the mouth. Supposedly Cadwalader, a supporter of Washington, boasted, "I have stopped that damned rascal's lying anyway" as he stood over the bleeding Conway.


	3. 3.02 Cold Murdering Bastards

Peggy arrives later that evening as she had promised, despite the raging summer storm outside, and he gives her the tour of what is to be their home. Although she compliments his efforts, she seems unimpressed, but Benedict reminds himself she has grown up in splendor and surely takes it for granted. Still, it serves to remind him of the disparity of their experiences. 

He lets her initiate their tryst as always and, as he had hoped, she is more responsive away from the memories of the Franklin house though she still doesn’t entirely relax even in the aftermath of their intimacy. It is before midnight and he is trying to persuade her to stay a little longer, rather than leaving him to his cold bed, when they are interrupted by a loud knocking.

When he finds Reed at the door with a writ of assistance that he claims is supported by Congress it is a struggle not to throttle the bastard, especially when he lists such baseless charges. Corruption? Impropriety? And to accuse him of treason when he has nearly given everything for their country...

It is fortunate Reed doesn't stay long while his men mark the furniture he has claimed or Benedict wouldn't have been able to hold back his temper as the weasel shows him the letter that allegedly proves the charges. How dare they take the words of such an anonymous coward after his years of service?

As the door shuts behind Reed and his lackeys, Benedict stumbles over to the stairs, studying the writ. He lowers himself onto the step, leg aching again, and rubs his hand absentmindedly across the scar as he tries to work out what to do next.

He has almost forgotten Peggy's presence until she speaks and he wishes she hadn't been there to witness this humiliation. She dares to ask if the charges are true and it is a struggle to control his tone, forcing himself to sound unconcerned as he dismisses her. What must she think him capable of that she could believe the word of a snivelling rat like Reed over him? 

Yet even without her thoughtless words, it would not be her comfort he wants and he finds himself missing Benjamin fiercely. Not for the first time he wishes he had died at Saratoga rather than surviving as a cripple to face this ingratitude.

Since Reed claims the charges have been sent onto Washington, Benedict feels he must speak to him directly to bring the matter to his attention. The bulk of the Continental Army is currently camped at Morristown, if Benjamin's latest letter is still accurate. It is at least two days' ride away but he doubts Reed's courier will have wasted any time either. He gets no sleep that night, tossing and turning, but forces himself to waits until first light to make the arrangements.

He sets out later that morning, with a small escort. They are solicitous, making sure he stops to eat and rest when his anger might have pushed him on heedless, despite the pain in his leg. By the second day he is able to look at the situation with a cooler head and, conscious of how irritable the pain makes him, he doesn't push onto the camp that evening but stops for the night at an inn an hour or so away and finishes his journey the following morning. Two days distance from the situation and a couple of good nights' sleep have improved his mood and it calms him further when his Benjamin is the first person he sees in the camp.

Benjamin looks well, if preoccupied, with Brewster at his side and, though he looks surprised to see him, his tone is warm as he directs him to Washington. Benedict wishes he could stop and catch up with Benjamin first but it would not be polite to delay making his way to their commander, especially when he wants his help.

Washington isn't as sympathetic to his situation as hoped given their long friendship but at least seems to understand that the charges are baseless. Benedict tells George about his engagement to Miss Shippen but he doesn't seem impressed by the news of his impending marriage either, though he offers his congratulations. He wonders not for the first time what Washington knows, or believes he knows, about his relationship with Benjamin.

George's next words, the suggestion Congress may be unable to pay him what he is owed, and even that he shouldn't take it if they do, are shocking but symptomatic of the difference between them. Washington may be able to afford to take that high ground but he cannot. It is typical of the thieves in Congress that they should have focused on their own gain but he cannot afford not to take the money whenever they should offer it; he has a family to support.

He is stunned when Washington recommends he should ask for a court martial but he has to admit the argument has merit. Taking the matter out of Congress' hands, out of Reed's hands, gives him a much stronger case and a military court will surely quickly see how false these charges are, as they had before. The only one with any standing was about his requisition of the sequestered furniture, and he would gladly pay for it himself if Congress would only pay him. As for the charge about Shewell, they couldn’t expect him to have questioned a smuggler about his loyalties; it wasn’t as though they didn’t all trade to both sides.

Having assuaged his immediate concerns, when Washington asks if he has any other matters to discuss Benedict is reminded of his investigation into the Shippen family. It seems Peggy's cousin, Edward, is a Major in the Continental Army and has recently been released in an exchange of prisoners. Here is an opportunity to win the approval of his future in-laws. He quickly gains Washington's agreement and makes arrangements for Major Burd to return to Philadelphia once he has been debriefed.

Benedict agrees he will stay here at Morristown overnight and head back to Philadelphia in the morning, which is no hardship for him. He is given a room to himself, as befitting his rank, and arranges for a message to be delivered to Benjamin, letting him know where to find him. There are other officers in the house but for all he has felt isolated in Philadelphia, they are not the company he wants.

He takes his evening meal in his room and it is starting to get dark before Benjamin arrives and Benedict had started to fear he would not come. But finally the familiar knock comes and Benjamin doesn't wait for his response before entering. He shuts and locks the door behind him as Benedict rises to his feet and there is a moment of awkwardness before they both move forward at once. It is good to have Benjamin in his arms again, though he knows they do not have enough privacy here to do much more than talk.

They sit on the bed so they don't have to let go of each other. Benedict wants to do nothing more than keep exchanging kisses but he knows there are matters they need to discuss. Still, there is no rush; it is unlikely anyone will consider anything usual in them talking until the early hours. He wraps an arm around Benjamin’s shoulder, lets him lean his weight back on him and for a long moment they just sit, enjoying each other’s company.

When he notices Benjamin shifting uncomfortably, hand pressed against his belly as he does when trying to relieve cramps, Benedict is caught between relief and disappointment. He knew, even when the thought first crossed his mind, that a child was never on the cards, even less likely than Benjamin accepting a proposal of marriage, but still he is struck by the loss of a possibility. He is almost surprised Benjamin has let him be this close, usually preferring to avoid being touched at this time. Perhaps it is a sign of how much he has been missed. He shifts his free hand to rest over Benjamin's own. "Is everything alright?" He tries to sound casual but Benjamin tenses.

"It's just the heat getting to me," he says. "Is it paining your leg?"

That is as clear a dismissal of the subject as possible so he turns the discussion instead to his issues with Reed, and Congress in general. Benjamin shares his anger at the accusations, lets him get it out of his system.

“And then there’s the whole Carlisle business,” he says.

“Carlisle, Pennsylvania? The munitions depot?” Benjamin sounds confused.

“No, the Earl of Carlisle - his Peace Commission, at least.”

Benjamin frowns. “I hadn’t heard anything about that.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Just another sign of the way Congress is failing the army, keeping them in the dark. “This war was started for representation and now that the British are prepared to negotiate, Congress aren’t even willing to listen. They’re offering us self-rule, in line with Pownall’s proposal - I don’t know if you’re familiar...”

“Yes, I’ve read his Administration of the Colonies,” Benjamin says, nodding.

“Then you must understand my frustration.” It is a relief to be able to speak freely of his concerns, even if this wasn’t how he had hoped to spend their time together. Still, Benjamin is looking up at him attentively so he continues. “I hear Congress barely even considered their proposal before refusing it. It’s not as though they are exactly being supportive of our attempts to defeat the British on the battlefield. They use my victory at Saratoga in one hand and push me aside with the other.”

“I thought they had agreed to more funding for the army?” Benjamin asks, and Benedict can see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

“Yes, because they’re just printing money.” He has been a businessman longer than a soldier and Congress' mismanagement of both the war and the economy angers him. “Washington believes they may soon devalue the continental dollar to the point of worthlessness. That we may not even be able to afford another campaign. And yet here are Congress merrily turning down the chance for peace.”

He could have gone on in that vein for some time but Benjamin tips his head up and distracts him with kisses, until they have to break off before they get carried away. They speak of his house in Philadelphia, of Grace Fletcher and how she shares her sibling's forthright attitude but eventually, as he knew it must, the conversation turns to Peggy Shippen and his engagement.

Benedict swallows hard - he had decided he was going to tell Benjamin the whole truth but it is hard to know where to start, especially with him in his arms. "I have a confession to make," he says.

Benjamin looks up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"There is something I need to tell you about Miss Shippen." Now he is here with Benjamin what they have done almost seems like a betrayal, even though they discussed the engagement, the whole idea of the relationship, in advance.

"Go on?" Benjamin tilts his head, as he often does when he is confused.

"I don't want you to be upset with me." It suddenly occurs to him that Benjamin might actually be angry with him over this. He had been assuming he could have both of them but what if Benjamin doesn’t want that? How can he choose between them?

"What's happened?" Benjamin draws away a little, starting to sound worried and that isn’t what he intended at all, though it is maybe for the best.

“Nothing bad,” he says, looking away, unable to meet his eyes. “Just that, we’ve pre-empted the wedding night…”

“You slept with her?” Benjamin doesn’t sound as upset as he had feared and he hasn't pulled away completely but perhaps he is merely waiting for his confirmation.

Still, he will not lie. “Yes,” he says, looking back to Benjamin, and is more surprised when he tips his head up to meet his gaze, still leaning against him.

“Tell me about her?”

That definitely wasn’t what he had expected. “What do you want to know?”

Benjamin shrugs. “I want to know what you see in her.” Something of Benedict's confusion must show on his face as Benjamin continues, “I’m not trying to compare myself to her, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just want to have a picture of her in my mind.”

“They say she’s the most beautiful woman in Philadelphia, and if you saw her you would know why,” Benedict says, closing his eyes and calling up an image of Peggy in his mind. "She might even the most beautiful woman in all the Americas. Her hair is like gold, worn high off her face with just one curled lock loose to draw attention to her throat and her eyes are a sage green, innocent one moment and piercing the next."

He looks down at his lover, worried that Benjamin would be jealous, but his eyes are closed as though he is visualising her as he speaks. "Go on."

"She’s so small," Benedict continues, recalling how tall he feels compared to her, "her hands are so tiny in mine. Even her features are delicate in a heart-shaped face, all peaches-and-cream complexion. And when she smiles it’s like the sun coming out from behind clouds.”

They have spoken before about his penchant for poetic descriptions, as though Benjamin doesn’t realize he would gladly compose odes to his beautiful blue eyes, the way his rare smiles dazzle him. Benjamin spends his days outside, the sun tanning his face to a warm golden hue. His hair might be honey brown, a few shades darker than Peggy's gold, though he is sun-bleached blonder now, with occasional red tints when it catches the light, but he is no less beautiful than she.

Indeed when Benjamin opens his eyes and looks up at him through his lashes, Benedict feels a wash of desire. He is glad is not the only one affected as Benjamin parts his lips, the flicker of his tongue across his lower lip, a flush turning his cheeks pink. "Tell me what you're thinking?"

The blush spreads further. "About you bedding her." Benjamin meets his gaze challengingly. "What's it like?"

Benedict thinks of Peggy laid out under him, pushes away the memories of her tense under his touch. "You want me to tell you how soft her breasts feel when I cup my hands around them? The way she arches up into my touch? The sounds she makes with my mouth on her..."

He can see Benjamin's eyes darken - is he imagining the two of them together? He had always assumed Benjamin was solely interested in men, but perhaps that isn’t the case after all. Benedict finds he is actually more flattered to learn otherwise, given the risk they are taking, that he had been worth it.

“Benjamin…” Benedict groans even as he claims his lips.

It is a few moments before Benjamin pushes him away once again. “We need to talk about what you’re going to do about Miss Shippen moving forwards,” he says resolutely.

Benedict shakes his head but knows Benjamin will not be distracted from his goal, like a dog with a bone. “I don't believe she has an ulterior motive," he says. "What would she have to gain from such a pretense? Do you really believe a young woman in her situation would be able to keep up such a scheme as you're suggesting?”

“But we know she was associating with André when she began writing to you,” Benjamin reminds him.

He shrugs. “So perhaps she just has a taste for older military men,” he replies, but even as he says it, he knows it sounds like a weak excuse. “I would suggest any scheming is at her family's end, except her father doesn't seem sufficiently keen on me to have such a plan.”

“It could still be her family behind it,” Benjamin says. “I fear they may intend you harm, if not physically then to your reputation. What if Judge Shippen is behind the writ, he has friends in Congress, doesn’t he?"

It makes a twisted sort of sense, but Benedict doesn't want to believe it. “Almost certainly, but I’ve never seen him there." He is reminded of who he had met. "Though on that note, I was recently introduced to your father."

Benjamin looks confused, and slightly nervous. "What did he have to say to you?"

"He wanted to ask about your brother, since he'd heard he served under me."

He looks relieved. "Sure. That makes sense. He didn't... You didn't tell him anything about me?"

"Why not? He was clearly concerned, I couldn't just pretend I don't know you. Besides, I thought you would want him to know." Benjamin has spoken to him often enough about the man and he thought he had understood their closeness.

Still, Benjamin only bites his bottom lip like that when he is nervous. "What did you say?"

Does he think Benedict would have mentioned anything compromising? Surely Benjamin knows him better than that. "Only that you'd served as my aide-de-camp over the winter and that you were well. I didn't say anything about... about this. I wouldn't do that."

"And you didn't... you didn't mention that you knew..."

Was that what he was concerned about? But Benjamin had explained his father had helped him in his disguise, so it couldn't be that exactly. "No, he wasn't alone. There was a member of Congress with him who made the introduction. I didn't know if he was a close friend or not - the name was Strong."

Benjamin looks almost guilty for a moment and Benedict feels a surge of jealousy before he goes on to explain Rogers' trick with the prisoner exchange. Though Benjamin has spoken before about his feud with Rogers, he hasn't told him this story and Benedict gets the impression he hasn't shared it with his father either. How the ranger had falsified the records to pretend Benjamin’s brother had survived the Jersey in order to draw him out and then tried to kill Strong. Still, it is no wonder he is so passionate in his hatred of Rogers. But that doesn’t help them now. "What do you want me to do if he approaches me again?"

Benjamin looks conflicted. “It’s probably best to say nothing about me at all. I’ll write to him myself and then he won’t have any reason to.”

"Well, at least you have an actual reason to visit Philadelphia now."

"That is true." Benjamin smiles. "I would certainly like the opportunity to meet Miss Shippen for myself."

They speak about keeping in touch, as Benedict worries how he would be able to let Benjamin know if any of the Shippens do turn out to the working for the British or if he has urgent news to pass on, and Benjamin, always the spy, suggests they agree some code phrases he can use in his letters. In return Benedict insists on a way he will know everything is well with Benjamin, without resorting to using military codes for their personal discussions. 

Benjamin talks him through some basic ciphers, more subtle ways to hide one message inside another. Halfway through an explanation, sketched onto a piece of flimsy, he pauses, “Have you heard of a Cardan grille?" 

Benedict frowns. "I don't believe so."

Benjamin nods thoughtfully and starts to draw a series of boxes of varied sizes on the paper. "They're quite ingenious. You write a message in the spaces here, like this,” he writes the words ‘General Lee is a traitor’ across the boxes, “then fill the rest of your letter around it.” Quickly he fills in words on either side of the boxes until it has entirely been hidden amongst unrelated sentences. “It takes a little practice to space out the words but then, unless your original message uses words that you wouldn't otherwise it's impossible to find without a matching grille."

Watching Benjamin work is a joy, even if it is beyond him. "It sounds complicated," he says, bending his head to press kisses against Benjamin's neck.

"It isn't really,” Benjamin says, refusing to be distracted but not pulling away. “I'll bring one over in the morning before you leave. But don't worry if you can't work with it, we've got the code words now at least."

It is getting late and eventually Benjamin has to head back to his own tent since it would invite too much speculation if he were to spend the whole night.

They do not have much opportunity to say a proper goodbye the following morning but Benjamin slips the grille to him with some other paperwork and it is still with a lighter heart Benedict heads back to Philadelphia with a new determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a bit of history nerding in this chapter... I've lost track with the actual show but, in my timeline this chapter happens in mid-July 1778. Also, fiddling with the location of the Continental Army camp - I understand it was easier for the show to have less sets but I wanted to be more accurate about where they spent the summer and fall of '78 (and make Caleb's trips to Setauket a more realistic distance).


	4. 3.03 Benediction

August passes uneventfully but it is the calm before the storm. Benedict takes Washington's advice and petitions for the charges against him to be passed to a court martial. The Board seem surprised, given how he had resisted it in '77 over the issue with Brown and Hazen, but accept his request. He can only hope whoever is chosen to investigate is not as biased as they had been back then - he has burnt his bridges with Gates since Quebec, the other general will not take his side this time, and Washington is unlikely to want to become further involved.

The letters from Benjamin continue to be the highlight of his weeks; proof he hasn't entirely been forgotten. The main text contains news about happenings in camp, and he hears how Lee's court martial ended with the general only being relieved of command for a year, for his crime of insubordination, since they couldn't accuse him publicly of his treason. Benedict is disappointed, especially since Gates is still on the Board of War, but reminds himself that, even if the war is not over by then, the army will likely be in a different position in a year's time and who knows if Lee will have any place in it.

Washington has the army moving further north into New York State, up towards West Point and it is clear there will be no opportunity for him to see Benjamin again for some time. With their letters now crossing contested grounds, Benjamin is more circumspect about the details he gives and his letters become more stilted to allow him to work their personal messages in cipher. He must have experience writing that way since Benedict finds it nearly impossible to draft a message which covers what he wants to say, even using the grille is a challenge, but he struggles through. Of course, there are codes they could use, intended for formal dispatches, but not only would those make it obvious they have something to hide, they could also be intercepted by their own side.

Peggy Shippen continues her private visits, coming to Penn Mansion late at night, and he is glad of the distraction she offers but, determined to win her full devotion, he also tries to spends what time he can with her during the days. Carriage rides allow them the opportunity to speak privately, whilst still ostensibly being in public. She is ever sympathetic to his complaints about Congress but he tries not to dwell on such matters, knowing she must find them dull. Instead, he aims to get to know her better but the only subjects she wishes to speak of are social events and gossip about the progress of her friends' engagements. At least she is still happy for him to charm her with compliments. Benedict can’t help but compare her to Benjamin in this; remembering all the time they had spent exchanging stories, sometimes he feels he knows Benjamin's friends better than he knows Peggy.

It is only a few weeks before he receives news that he has been vindicated by the military committee who reviewed his case and they have dismissed all the charges, averting a full court martial. Benedict is relieved that common sense has prevailed; it was clearly obvious to the committee the charges were completely fabricated, for the most part, and even those which had some grain of truth in had been vilely exaggerated. Now with that concern behind him he can get on with sweeping aside Peggy’s objections to setting their wedding date, and getting her family on his side is a major part of his plan.

He has not wasted those weeks, waiting for his exoneration and now, with the renovations to Penn Mansion complete, Benedict is enjoying showing his efforts off to the Shippens. Despite Peggy’s indifference, he hopes they will find it good enough for their daughter, though it hardly compares to their estate. He exaggerates the state Howe had left the place in to emphasis how much work he has put into renovating it. He is, he thinks understandably, proud of what he has achieved, especially since it is still without the money Congress owes him, though admittedly many of the repairs have been funded with his military budget since the house will also serve as his headquarters.

As planned, Major Burd arrives to be presented mid-way through their tour and, regardless of what else he hopes to gain from the man's presence, he feels he has done something right by the look on his face when he sees his family, and in particular Elizabeth Shippen. Whatever Peggy had said about her sister’s British suitor, it is clear how she shares Edward’s feelings. If Peggy looked at him with a fraction of the same devotion he would be certain her words and feelings are her own. Benjamin is more guarded, has to be in their position, but at least his smiles reach his eyes and when they are alone he more than makes up for it. If anything, Peggy seems less enthusiastic when it is just the two of them.

Peggy doesn't seem to know what to make of his assistance with her cousin, but with this evidence of the efforts he will go to for their family, Judge Shippen finally thaws and appears to give his full approval. He is even open to the suggestion of finding employment for Major Burd, telling him he has just the position in mind. Benedict is determined he will win the Tories of Philadelphia over and the Shippens are just the start.

He hosts a dinner party a couple of nights later and, feeling magnanimous with everything starting to turn out right, as well as his future in-laws, he has even invited Reed and his wife to prove he can be the bigger man, let bygones be bygones. He also encourages Burd into asking for the elder Miss Shippen's hand, without revealing his vested interest in her nuptials. Reed tries to undermine his efforts but Judge Shippen shows his support and the politician withdraws; it is most satisfying to watch him yield and Benedict harbors a small hope that he will yet see the man forced to apologise for his vendetta against him.

The meal seems to be going well and he rises to make a short speech and give a victorious toast before giving Burd the floor. He is privately congratulating himself already as Neddy is just about to propose when a letter arrives from camp. He glances at the handwriting, but it is neither Benjamin nor Washington, which means it can wait. Except the messenger whispers that it had come with a note from the Commander advising him to read it immediately.

Though he is reluctant to allow anything to interfere with this moment, Benedict opens the note at the table and instantly regrets it as he reads that his court martial has been referred back by Congress and Washington is supporting it. His mood is instantly soured, especially with Reed sitting there smugly as though he doesn't know what it must say, daring to raise his glass to him when he is the one behind it.

He doesn't want to cause a scene but he cannot sit through the rest of the meal calmly and pretend to be unaffected. Benedict stands, intending to withdraw quietly, but his damn leg refuses to work properly and he nearly knocks over the chair. Still he excuses himself with as much dignity as he can muster but it is not enough and he knows he cannot have left a good impression.

Peggy follows him out but she is the last person he wants to see right now, at least he could have punched Reed. Still, she has a right to know how that snake has betrayed him, when he is sitting there eating from his table. She seems offended on his behalf but and Benedict pulls himself together enough to reassure her that he will be fine; tells her to go back to finish her meal. Even if he is to be a poor host, there is no reason why she should suffer and she agrees she will to see his guests out afterwards.

He hides himself away; Grace brings in a plate of food without speaking and leaves him to his brooding. He paces his study, reading through the letter and list of charges, noting the new additions. He pours a glass of madeira and downs it, trying to contain his anger, dull the ever-present pain. What he wouldn't give for Benjamin's counsel right now but he is out of reach and Benedict knocks back a second glass to drown out his concern. He doesn’t mean to take his anger out on the furniture but when he stumbles and knocks the side table over his temper peaks and he overturns the chair beside it, kicks out at the fallen books and papers.

What sort of improper request is he supposed to have made of the militia? The only thing he can recall is asking if one could find him a barber. Instead he fears this is Washington’s attempt to call out his relationship with Benjamin, as though he had any place to judge, the hypocrite. If that is the case then he urgently needs to speak with Benjamin in person about this whole business, their guarded letters insufficient for such a situation.

He assumes Peggy would have left with her family so when she interrupts him he is caught off guard and lashes out without thinking, angry at Reed for his pretense at civility, when he must have known about this all the while, angry at Washington for turning aside years of friendship, for the blow to his honor.

He didn’t intend to give Peggy an opening when he says they are making an enemy of him, wasn’t even thinking of Benjamin’s theories about her allegiance but simply speaking the truth. When he tells her he could destroy them, he isn’t thinking militarily at all but of their reputations.

He has heard rumors more than once of the unnatural closeness of Washington and his aides. President Laurens' son is one of Washington's close circle and any hint of sodomy would destroy the father's reputation too. Then there is Von Steuben - if proof could be shown of his proclivities then he would be disgraced and he has barely been subtle nor discreet in his blatant deviancy. And of course Washington himself and his relationship with the Marquis de Lafayette. Admittedly Benjamin is certain it is innocent but then he can be curiously naive about such things and even the suggestion would be enough to stain Washington's honor the way his own has been.

Lost in fantasies about wielding his knowledge against his detractors, he almost misses the moment when Peggy starts to speak and makes her own loyalties clear. He realizes what he has said, how he has given Peggy the opportunity she needs to play her hand. So, it is true, as Benjamin believed, she is in league with André. 

Has everything about their relationship been a lie? It is another blow and so isn’t difficult to look shocked. He had held out hope they were wrong about her but now it comes to it he doesn’t know how to respond. He had never imagined she would be so blatant about it. Even Benjamin's suggestions had been that she might encourage him to move in Tory circles and favor them in the military courts, perhaps to pretend ignorance to the movement of people and goods towards the British lines, maybe even at most providing them official papers.

Instead, what she is suggesting, that she could put him directly into contact with their head of intelligence, is more than just turning a blind eye, it is outright treason, though perhaps he isn't supposed to recognize André's name. Then again, why should she know what Major André does? It is still so tempting to believe in her, as she tells him how she is doing this because she loves him, her expression so seemingly genuine but he cannot take the risk.

He is torn. He wants to believe she is truly doing this for him but he cannot afford to be naive. Benjamin has long suspected her family of being influenced by the British and, even if he wants to trust she is acting in good faith, he must be careful of his own actions. The last thing he needs, with Reed already on his back, is to be accused of treason himself. 

Even if he were to explain it as a sanctioned operation, authorised by Washington’s head of intelligence, and Benjamin were to back him up it risks exposing their relationship. The letters they have exchanged contain more than just discussions of intelligence and any answer to an accusation of sodomy would reveal Benjamin’s own secret and he could never do that to him.

On the other hand, even if he wanted to dismiss the suggestion outright, he doesn't want to reject her and besides, he cannot publically denounce Peggy Shippen. Even if her family weren't amongst Philadelphia's elite, who would believe a woman could be any threat, if they even considered her words treachery. He wants to believe her feelings for him are real, but even if they are not, he loves her, doesn’t ever want to see her hurt, see her beautiful eyes filled with pain.

Peggy is very convincing about how André’s friends will appreciate him, how he deserves better. When she looks up at him, with such conviction in her face, he can imagine she truly believes what she is saying and he finds a small part of him believing it too. What harm can it do to listen? If only Benjamin was here to advise him.

She tells him she has a way to get a letter to André, that it is secure, nothing for him to worry about. She assures him no-one needs to know until everything is settled but unfortunately she cannot stay long enough to write it this evening, her father's carriage will return within the hour. Even though he knows the suggestion is dangerous in itself, he tells her he will consider it. She could just as easily go to Congress now, with just that and, given the way they are biased against him, they would probably fall for it but he has to believe in her sincerity.

After she leaves, he rights the chair and sits down hard, head in his hands. The madeira had spilt when the table went over but he has a bottle of spirits in the desk drawer if he can rouse himself. They will dull the pain and maybe he can get sufficiently drunk to forget his troubles enough to sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in real history, Edward Burd was appointed prothonotary of the Philadelphia Supreme Court in early September 1778 so this chapter takes place at the end of August 1778.


	5. 3.04 Hearts and Minds

When the letter from Washington finally arrives, the promised explanation is hollow. He puts the blame on Congress, of course, but Benedict knows the new charges must have come from within the army. Does Washington think so little of him that he cannot be honest? He even suggests perhaps, given his injury, the time has come for Benedict to retire to private life and that he should take the time to enjoy his new bride. He writes back assuring him that he is recovered enough to fight - he can ride, can still wield a sword, what more is needed?

Summer turns into Fall and Benjamin writes to tell him he has a mission and may be out of contact for some days. He doesn’t explain any details, unless Benedict is missing a ciphered message but he pours over the letter and can’t spot anything. He hasn’t seen any especial mention of the 2nd Dragoons in dispatches either - the last he had heard Washington was planning to start moving the army back into New Jersey to winter quarters after a disappointing campaign season - so he suspects it is more likely to do with his intelligence work.

He imagines Benjamin intended the letter to be a reassurance in case he cannot write for some time but, since he gives no idea of how long he is talking about, instead Benedict finds he is distracted with worries over the risks he might be taking.

Benjamin has spoken of his friend, Hale, caught spying in New York city by the British and hanged, and Benedict can’t help but fear for Benjamin's safety. Benjamin has told him he avoids putting himself behind enemy lines, but his dragoons patrol the border areas and what if he considered it necessary. Benedict trusts him to be careful, knows he can think on his feet and has enough patience for both of them - Benjamin told him the story of how he was able to be the only survivor of the ambush Lee set his Dragoons up for after all - but his calm demeanor is misleading; Benjamin has a temper to rival any when he is provoked and no-one is at their best when they are angry.

Despite his own outburst at the dinner, Neddy Burd and Betsey Shippen confirm their engagement and their wedding is planned for November, which allows him and Peggy to finally set their own wedding date. March is a lot longer than he wanted to wait, but then again if, as he is starting to realize, Benjamin's theory was correct and she is acting on Major André's instructions, the delay is probably better if it means it may not come to pass. He doesn't want to believe that her interest is solely a ploy from British intelligence, not when they are so close but he has to admit it is looking increasingly possible.

Still, she seems genuinely interested in making wedding plans now which gives him hope she may truly share his feelings. She tells him about the dress she will have made, talks about the guest list, the flower arrangements, the wedding breakfast. It all goes over his head; Benedict is sure his first wedding wasn't this complicated. He hopes it is all coming out of her father's purse at least.

Benedict wonders if he ought to invite Hannah and the boys down from New Haven for the ceremony, but when he mentions it to Peggy she looks doubtful. Somehow he finds it impossible to imagine her as a mother figure to them and he is very conscious of their age difference, or lack thereof, as he realizes she is only eight years older than his eldest.

He does write to Hannah anyway. It has been months since he saw his boys and, even if they aren’t to attend his wedding, he wants to start making arrangements to visit them. Perhaps they can't come to him, who knows when it will be safe enough to travel from Connecticut and Philadelphia, but he cannot be apart from them for too much longer. He worries for their future, remembers how he had felt when he had had to take an apprenticeship because his father had drunk away the family’s money. He had sworn he would never let his family down like that but now it seems that, in doing his best to serve their country, he is failing them too.

Further to their conversation the night after he received the letter about his court martial, Peggy writes to André making introductions as promised. He doesn't like the method, especially how she is given his name plainly, and it is disconcerting to learn they had developed an entire code for this exact scenario. He isn’t sure he believes André had given an open-ended offer, nor that she would have done the same for any officer, unless she had had other correspondents within the Continental Army. When he asks her how much of this she had planned in advance, she tells him only this but the more he learns about it, the less is sure he can believe anything she is saying. What has he gotten himself into?

When he tells Peggy of his doubts, she reminds him how Congress have cheated him of what he deserves, of the way they continue to disrespect him. She promises him the British will be different. He wants to believe it but he is a Patriot and he can almost hear Benjamin telling him some things are more important than personal glory. Still, surely there is no harm in seeing what the British have to say, and this way he can have the best of both worlds, keep his options open.

He spends the next few weeks in constant worry: about the court martial, about Benjamin, about André’s response. He wishes he could have spoken to Benjamin before he left, this is a bad time for him to be out of contact. He writes him anyway, even knowing he may not receive it for some days, or perhaps weeks, but he doesn't want to take any further steps without his advice. It is a struggle to compose the message he wants to send within the confines of the grid and he makes sure to burn his drafts. If Peggy is truly in league with the British, he doesn't want to reveal his own hand and besides, he cannot deny he is increasingly persuaded by her arguments; he doesn’t want to burn his bridges before he’s had the chance to look at what’s on the other side.

It is nearly three weeks after they send the letter through the arranged channels to New York City when a black woman turns up with a book and an innocuous covering letter to Peggy. He is prepared to ignore the messenger when she is named as 'Abigail' and he remembers Benjamin mentioning that name as a former slave of one of his friends, taken into the service of Major André. He wonders if she is the same woman; it seems an incredible coincidence otherwise.

Thinking quickly, he attempts a casual tone, asking the escort if a letter has arrived yet from Major Tallmadge and sees her flinch out of the corner of his eye. He turns back to her, forcing his expression to remain blank. "You know the name?"

Her expression is wary and he can understand that. Does she know what message she carries? If she is loyal to André she wouldn't want to reveal she is familiar with a rebel officer, whether she knows his position or not, and if, as Benjamin had implied when talking about a source close to André, she is working against him, she may believe he is genuine in his betrayal and not want to give herself away. "I knew a Tallmadge family in Setauket," she says cautiously. "But that was a couple of years ago now."

"The Major does indeed come from Setauket, so it is likely to be the same one,” he says, offering her the blandest smile he can manage. “Reverend Tallmadge preaches here in Philadelphia now, perhaps you could look him up while you're here."

She looks uncomfortable. "I can't stay in Philadelphia long," she says. "I need to head back to Ma... to my employer as soon as possible."

He would like to keep her talking, try to find out more, but other than sharing more small talk about the Tallmadges he cannot think of a way to be any clearer without revealing where he stands and what if she is loyal to André? Besides he doesn't want to raise suspicion by spending too long speaking with a servant. "Will you wait for a response?" he asks instead.

“I was told to,” she says flatly.

Well, that doesn’t give him a lot of time to come to a decision, nor any opportunity to consult with Benjamin, but then again that’s probably what André wants. He tries one last option, "Shall I remember you to Benjamin when I see him next?" 

She frowns but cautiously agrees and, as Benedict heads up to his private study, he directs Grace to take her some refreshments. "And perhaps you could speak with her?"

Grace looks confused. "If you don't mind me asking, why?"

He shakes his head, like her sibling she will never just follow orders blindly. He doesn't know how Benjamin finds these people. "I understand she may be acquainted with Major Tallmadge," is all he says but it seems to be enough and she smiles as she heads back to the kitchen.

He presumes a message is hidden in the book and once alone all but tears it apart to search for it but finds nothing. Peggy arrives shortly after, and hurries in looking flustered. He hands her the covering letter along with the book and she immediately turns it over, flipping open a hidden compartment on the spine and pulling out a folded letter.

It is becoming increasingly obvious how well planned this all was, though she again tells him this is as much as they had pre-arranged. If it hadn't been for Benjamin's warning he would probably have fallen for it too since it still is very tempting to think the British will appreciate him where Congress don’t. He won't deny he has engaged in fantasies of carving his way through the blowhards in Congress.

Then again, perhaps he wouldn't have. The tone of André's message and the insult of the codename 'Monck' gives him a jolt. He had thought, if they were so keen to give him the things he deserves, they would understand that he wants to be on a battlefield, that he wishes he could fight Congress and their lackeys on his preferred ground. There is nothing the British can offer him which would induce him to become a spy but it bothers him how easily Peggy is able to play on his distaste for Congress because he doesn’t know where he stands anymore.

Of course, he doesn't want to face Washington across a battlefield. For all Benedict knows he is the superior tactician, Washington has the devil's luck. He knows his friend is at odds with Congress much of the time too, and would like to think he would understand, since he has no reason to defend them. 

Furthermore, the British are well aware what a blow Washington's death would be to the revolution, as seen by their assassination attempts, and his fate if captured is unlikely to be as kind as Lee's, so that is not something he ever wants to see come to pass. There is Benjamin to think of too; even if Benedict could come to an arrangement with the British, Benjamin is an idealist, he is unlikely to accept that Congress is a greater evil than the Crown, and perhaps he is right.

Benedict wonders if Peggy realizes how obvious it is that she is actually arguing André's side? Still, he has to concede she likely knows best what the British officer is thinking. She is probably also correct in saying he needs to give away some information but this is where he had hoped Benjamin would be there to guide him. He refuses to give them military intelligence but surely the rumors about the value of the Continental dollar can't hurt? Every trader knows it anyway and there have always been plenty of Patriot merchants who would rather barter or be paid in British pounds, let alone those on the London trade. What can the British do with that?

He also asks about reimbursement, not just pay but a guarantee they will cover any losses if he is discovered. He knows this goes beyond what he had discussed with Benjamin, fears he is coming dangerously close to being actually convinced. He has plenty of evidence that Congress don’t value him so why not find out if the British will? After all, he needs to look out for himself and his family too and it is not as though they are asking for him to do anything irreversible at this stage; he can justify it as being for the sake of verisimilitude if it comes to nothing. He makes it clear though that he would expect a battlefield command, he is tired of being sidelined.

Peggy tries to persuade him to give André more but when he refuses she still helps disguise the response into a different book and hands it to the servant woman to return to New York City. He almost wonders if he'd rather hope she just doesn't make it back but knows that's hardly fair.

Though he still hasn't heard back from his previous letter, he writes to Benjamin telling him what he can manage about the letter exchange, hoping he hasn't made the wrong decision to proceed. He prays that Benjamin is well and that he will see him soon.


	6. 3.05 Hypocrisy, Fraud, and Tyranny

Fall passes and with it comes the anniversary of Saratoga. So much has happened in the past year, and Benedict wouldn't trade the time he has had with Benjamin for anything, yet he is no further recovered than he was six months ago. Must he bear this pain, this limp for the rest of his life? It is becoming increasingly clear that Washington has no intention of returning him to a field command and he must think about what that means for him, for his family.

Still, before that he has to endure several dinner parties held in the city to celebrate their successes over the past year. At least this time he isn't forced to do so alongside Gates, who has just resigned his post on the Board of War after the conclusion of Congress' investigations into his and Conway's campaign against Washington and, rumor has it, is shortly to be assigned as commander to the Eastern department, way from the battle lines.

Despite his victory being again feted, with the delay on the resolution of his court martial, Benedict has made no progress in persuading Congress to pay him the sum he is owed and he needs to secure his future. With Reed and his lackeys watching his every move, he has to be more circumspect in his trading than he might have liked and the profit he makes is barely enough to keep on top of his expenses.

Regardless of what Reed thinks or the ongoing trial hanging over him, as military commandant, Benedict feels obligated to participate in the life of the city. If they won't invite him to their fancy dinner parties, he will host his own, see if they dare refuse his invitation. He takes Peggy's advice on the menu, the decor; she has expensive tastes but Benedict is determined to do whatever it takes to win over the people of Philadelphia, then Reed and the Pennsylvania council will have to listen to him.

At Peggy's recommendation he even sponsors plays, against the wishes of the Puritans in Congress who think it will be a distraction from the war. What do they know? Washington had understood last winter that a distraction is exactly what is needed to keep up morale and, as he could have predicted, the men turn out in their droves along with their families. Still, the cost is a weight on his shoulders and he is struggling to keep up with it all, while showing no sign to Peggy as he doesn't to give her any reason to regret their engagement.

He is able to build a rapport with Franks, the young lieutenant assigned to him as an aide, when he discovers the man has a sister, Rebecca, who is friends with his Peggy. He doesn't seem to realize how much he is revealing about the loyalties of the elite families in Philadelphia when he shares her tales of 'last year's parties' but learning who had supported the British occupation is quite enlightening.

The other part of his campaign involves countering the charges against his honor by fostering a veneer of morality. This means making an effort to visibly attend church services and he tries to visit as many different congregations as possible. He has never had much use for religion, not after his siblings' deaths and his father's descent into drunkenness. Personally he doesn’t see much of a difference between the denominations, though he is sure Benjamin could put his Yale education to use and explain it in a way that made him care. Then again, Benjamin could probably read to him from Ames' almanack and he would be happy to listen to his voice.

Many of the ministers seem happy to ignore his presence, even when he attends alongside the Shippens. The Society of Friends asks that, if he attends their meeting, he does so without guard or weapon and, when he calculates the benefit of gaining their support is worth the minor risk and does so, they seem won over. Of course, he might have got around the spirit of their request with the blade in his cane but they could hardly demand he left his walking stick behind.

It is probably inappropriate but he asks Grace to find out where Reverend Tallmadge is preaching, telling himself he is only curious. When he finds out he is using a private home, he seeks an invitation to attend and, for once, his appearance makes a positive stir. Despite the brevity of their acquaintance, Tallmadge Snr not only makes the effort to welcome him personally but even references him when praying for the success of the army. It is no surprise that the majority of his congregation are strong Patriots, including Strong and several others of the more reasonable members of Congress. After the service, a couple of them even make a point of sympathising with him about Reed’s intransigence and in the days that follow Benedict receives several visits and invitations from his new acquaintances.

When he finally hears back from Benjamin, with a letter which casually informs him he had been shot but is recovering well, it takes an effort not to go straight to his father. The older man would either not understand the depth of Benedict's concern or else it would raise his suspicions about their relationship. Then if he worked it out, even if he would otherwise have approved, he would doubtless be less sympathetic given Benedict's public engagement to Miss Shippen and if he didn't... Benedict can understand how it looks from the outside, and doubts the argument that it was Benjamin's idea would go down well.

Benjamin tells him the wound was in his right hip and is healing well but doesn’t go into further detail. Benedict has suffered enough musket wounds himself to know how much he isn't saying: how did he get shot, at what range, did the ball go all the way through or did someone have to dig it out? Is the delay in writing due to the length of his mission or his recovery? It hurts to think of Benjamin in pain, perhaps even delirious with wound fever. He reminds himself how loyal Benjamin's dragoons are, they will not have left him to suffer alone.

He thinks of the scar on Benjamin’s shoulder, how easily it could have been worse, and wants to have him here so he can see the new injury for himself and have the evidence of his continued good health before his own eyes, especially since he knows full well how meaningless the phrase 'healing well' is. The doctors in camp kept telling him he was 'healing well' even as it became clear his leg was permanently damaged, simply because the wound wasn't actually infected.

The rest of Benjamin’s letter is general chatter about the camp moving to winter quarters and his hope that it will be less miserable than the previous one, especially since he is deprived of the distraction of his aide-de-camp duties. In cipher he tells Benedict to proceed with caution and not to agree to anything further before they have had the chance to speak in person.

Benedict cannot express his true feelings in his reply but nonetheless chides him for his carelessness and offers himself up as a cautionary tale. Since he has no excuse for visiting the camp, he instead asks if Benjamin will be joining his father in Philadelphia for Thanksgiving, hoping that he will find an opportunity to visit. Peggy is determined that he should host a ball for their Thanksgiving celebrations, is already enthusiastically discussing the band and guest list and he finds it hard to deny her anything. It is still hard to sound unmoved, writing Benjamin about his new lacquer finished dance floor when he wants to tell him how he misses him.

His mood is clearly obvious to those around him as Grace pauses after serving his breakfast. "Pol says I'm to tell you the Major's already up and about and he's going to make a full recovery."

"Did they tell you how it happened?" he demands before he can catch himself. Showing his concern is dangerous - he could get them both caught if he's not careful.

He needn't have worried. The look which crosses her face is a mix of amusement and relief as she sits down at the dining table. "They didn't, but I can ask? I've never met the Major but anyone Pol speaks so highly of must be a good man."

Still, he is reminded he must be more cautious. That Sunday, when at the end of the service, Reverend Tallmadge catches him before he can leave, he schools his expression to blandness as the older man asks, “I hope I’m not imposing, General, but might I ask if you have heard from my son recently?”

It is an effort to appear unaffected. Benedict feels guilty that he had even considered saying nothing. Benjamin may be upset with him if he tells his father of his injury but the Reverend will be hurt if he finds out he knew and didn't mention it. Since he understands a father’s concern, he finds a compromise. “I did receive a message in his hand a few days ago." The look of relief tells him he made the right decision.

"Bless you, General," he says. "I don't suppose he give any indication of if he might be visiting Philadelphia any time in the near future?"

"I understand General Washington is settling the army into winter quarters then perhaps the major will have the time for his personal correspondence.” That should ensure the Reverend doesn't enquire further, making it seem that any letters between them are purely professional.

The Reverend keeps him in conversation for several more minutes, while Benedict struggles not to reveal Benjamin's injury and how much he knows about his activities.

It occurs to him that the Reverend must constantly be worrying, not just if his son will survive the war but if he will make it through with his secret intact. For the first time Benedict realizes the depth of the risk Benjamin is taking, how easily even a minor wound could see him exposed and forced out of the army. That he has made it as as far as he has, when Benedict has heard enough of his battle anecdotes to know Benjamin fights as any other officer, with a sword in the thick of the fight, despite knowing what will happen if he is injured, is a true testament to his skill. Still, this is the second time he has been shot and he isn't the only one of his Dragoons in this situation, there must surely be surgeons within the army happy to keep a secret, probably in return for Brewster's contraband.

It is a couple of weeks later when Benedict hears that Washington is coming to Philadelphia to speak to Congress in person and, though he hears nothing from Benjamin, he hopes that means he will be there too, since the 2nd Dragoons usually serve as Washington's honor guard. As tempting as it is to pass the information onto Tallmadge Senior, he isn't certain he could keep his own expression neutral in the face of the Reverend's likely pleasure at the news.

In the meantime, a further letter arrives from Major André which prevaricates over the question of what compensation the British would offer for his service as well as demanding more information on the Continental camps, numbers and defenses before the major will make any promises. It also requests details on the identity of a spy and Benedict catches himself almost complaining to Peggy that intelligence is ‘Benjamin’s’ business but manages to correct it in time.

Still, Peggy sounds almost eager when she presses that since he knows Tallmadge, can he not inquire? His blood runs cold. Is that what this is about? They had discussed the possibility of it being a plot to discredit him but is Benedict the target or just a convenient catspaw? André obviously knows who Benjamin is since his assassin escaped last year but surely he couldn't have known about their relationship. Well, they have chosen the wrong man if they think he will ever allow them to get anywhere near Benjamin.

He refuses to be their spy, there is no honor in that. Benjamin may be willing to put that aside but then he is the top of the chain, isn't the one getting his hands dirty, pretending to be something he is not. It would be one thing to be a turncoat, to go over to the British with the information he possesses, it is another to pass on that information from within the Continental ranks and that is going too far.

André has overplayed his hand and Benedict comes to his senses. Peggy argues that his country has already betrayed him, what does he owe them? She pleads in vain for him to see just André's side but he rejects her arguments; tells her doesn't care how many times the man ate at her father's table. She flinches and Benedict feels a wave of anger, does she think he doesn't know how she warmed the other man's bed?

He reminds himself it is Reed and Congress who have betrayed him and once his name is cleared they will not be able to pursue their vendetta. He will invite Washington to their ball, reason with him in person to bring the court martial forward, defend himself against the trumped up charges and then he will have no need of the British who are clearly no more willing to give him his dues than Congress, whatever they might like him to believe.

He wants Benjamin at his side, to hear his always solid advice. He wishes he could send an invitation to him directly but under the circumstances Peggy would surely get suspicious. Besides if Benjamin is travelling with Washington then he will see him soon enough. It will have to do.


	7. 3.06 Many Mickles Make a Muckle

Benedict is nervous in the lead up to the ball. It is another large expense he can ill afford but Peggy was adamant that, as military commandant of the city, his celebrations of Thanksgiving must make an impression. Many of the guests are friends of Peggy's or the Shippens and he is hardly close to any of the other officers who she considered of sufficient importance to invite. He hopes to avoid dancing as much as possible; whatever grace he had before his injury is gone now and far too often the pain comes on without warning, causing him to stumble.

Peggy is willing to concede Benedict's point there, not wanting to be embarrassed by him, but he is forced to open the dancing with her so she is then able to accept invitations from their guests. On the dance floor she looks truly happy, though he hates seeing her on the arms of other men and wishes he could be the one making her smile. He has to admit she is a brilliant hostess, making everyone feel welcome and she looks especially vibrant in her dress, which brings out the gold in her hair.

He takes Martha Washington's presence as a good sign though she arrives alone and refuses to confirm her husband will definitely be attending. When George finally arrives Benedict is determined to speak with him as soon as possible, can hardly wait long enough for him to greet his wife, but before he has the chance he is drawn away by another arrival.

He had been obliged to send an invitation to Joseph Reed since he is expected to become President of the Pennsylvania Council within the month, but hadn't expected him to attend, is astonished by the nerve of the man. By the time he gets away from the politician, Washington is dancing with his wife and Benedict cannot hold it against him when they have been parted so long, as much as he is impatient to make his case.

He had hoped Benjamin would be there, had named him specifically in extending the invitation to Washington's staff, but has yet to see him. Benedict is forced to wait through several sets before Washington takes a break from the dancing, their commander much in demand due to his prowess there. It is only as he is waiting for Washington to finish up a conversation that he finally catches sight of Benjamin, taking the dance floor with Peggy, and the sight of the two of them arm in arm sends a shiver down his spine. Still, he needs to speak to Washington so he lingers in the anteroom, only seeing glimpses of them moving together.

George looks impassive as he pleads for him to see to moving up the date of the court martial, but, though he barely has the chance to state his case before he is again interrupted by the arrival of new guests, he hopes it is enough. At this point he is even willing to agree to retire from service, since it was only George who had prevented his resignation more than once before, if it will see the matter resolved.

When he eventually catches up with Benjamin, Benedict has to force himself to remain formal, though he desperately wants to find a way to get him alone. Benjamin’s words about the expense he has gone to, though directly quoting from one of his letters, give him an excuse, and he pretends at offense. He hopes the hint about his private ledgers is clear enough as he storms upstairs.

He leaves the study door ajar and Benjamin is only a few moments behind him. As he follows him in, Benedict presses him back against the door, kissing him hard. Benjamin responds at first then pushes him away with a hand on his chest.

“What was that about?” he asks.

Benedict smiles down at him, hand on his cheek. “It gave you a reason for you to follow me in here, didn’t it?”

Benjamin looks genuinely upset and Benedict steps back, feels a momentary pang of guilt. "I don't know,” Benjamin says, his tone hard. “What exactly have you been telling your fiancé about me?"

His mind goes blank. He has barely mentioned Benjamin to Peggy except, well, just that one time and then... "I was only explaining her why I attended your father's sermons," he says, confused about the note of accusation in his voice.

"She knows I'm Washington's head of intelligence," Benjamin hisses.

Shite, had he told her that? When they were arguing over Andre's last letter Benedict had mentioned Benjamin's name but then Peggy had immediately jumped on it, as though she recognized it already. "I think she got it from André," he says, "but I haven't been watching my words as much as I should. I'm sorry."

The tension melts out of Benjamin then and he leans back on the study door. "You are certain she is working with André then?"

He swallows hard, suddenly unsure if he's crossed a line. He had written Benjamin about their letter exchange but he couldn’t exactly give the full story in cipher. Is he going to be upset by how much he has allow Peggy to tell André without checking with him first? "Come here and let me show you," he says as he heads over to his desk. Benjamin looks concerned as he steps away from the door, glances back presumably noting the lack of a lock. "Don't worry,” Benedict says, knowing the floorboards in the corridor creak. “We'll have plenty of warning if someone is coming. And I do have official intelligence to share with you."

Benjamin still looks reluctant even as he comes round the desk to stand beside him. "We're still in the same house as General Washington and your wife-to-be."

Benedict sits down, wrapping an arm around Benjamin's waist and pulling against himself, into his lap, even as he protests weakly and doesn't make any real effort to pull away. “It’ll be fine, don’t worry.” He brushes his lips against the side of Benjamin’s neck, the hinge of his jaw. “I saw you dancing with her,” he whispers into his ear.

Benjamin is still tense but takes a deep breath, then his shoulders visibly relax. “She is every bit as pretty as you said,” he says.

"Did you dance with her on purpose, knowing I'd be watching you?" Benedict asks.

He laughs and shakes his head. "No, she cornered me while I was admiring your clock."

"You can admire something else of mine if you want," Benedict suggests, pressing his hips against him.

"Not in the middle of a party behind an unlocked door," Benjamin says, shifting away and he can take his point.

Benedict pulls out the letters from the secret drawer within his desk, shows them to him. There are only a handful and he doesn't have a full copy of all of them so it is just a matter of a few minutes for Benjamin to read through. He doesn't say anything as he reads, the little crease appearing in his brow, and Benedict can't help worrying he has done the wrong thing.

Finally Benjamin leans back against him. "We need to discuss this properly, and in private."

He doesn't sound upset, more thoughtful so Benedict presses a kiss to his brow. "You'll come to see me tomorrow?" He tries not to sound too needy but, judging from Benjamin's frown, he doesn't succeed.

"If I'm not needed to give evidence before Congress," Benjamin says.

It is Benedict's turn to frown. "Evidence? About what?" As far as he has heard, Washington is in Philadelphia at the invitation of President Laurens.

Benjamin tilts his head at him in his usual considering pose. "The British counterfeiting plot," he says, as though he had thought Benedict knew.

He feels slightly sick. There have been rumors about a rise in counterfeit bills but he hadn't thought anything of it. Surely it couldn't be related, but he doesn't know what to say. "I didn't..."

"I'm not saying it was the wrong thing to do," Benjamin interrupts him, in a tone which is clearly supposed to be reassuring. "You had to give them something. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

Benedict sighs but has to accept that. "How long is General Washington planning to stay?" he asks instead.

"As long as it takes," Benjamin tells him.

"And you?" He needs to know they will have time for pleasure as well as business. They have been apart too long.

Benjamin is tense in his embrace. "As long as his Excellency needs me here."

He cannot help but tighten his grip. "I need you here."

That was obviously the wrong thing to say as Benjamin shakes him off. “Well I need to get back before either of our absence is noted.” He stands up quickly, already starting to turn away.

“Just a little longer,” Benedict says, wrapping an arm around his waist. He turns Benjamin so they are facing each other. “I want to see your injury for myself.” 

Benjamin frowns but he ignores it, needing to assure himself all is truly well. He presses Benjamin back against the desk, hands going to his fly. 

"Benedict, not here," Benjamin objects, trying to push his hands away.

"We haven’t been gone long enough to be missed, no-one is going to know," he says. When he has Benjamin’s breeches undone, he pushes his shirt up to see the scar. The skin is still pink and the wound is above his hip, closer to his gut than he had implied and he runs his fingers lightly across it.

"As you see, I'm fine," Benjamin insists, pushing him off, redressing in a hurry.

He isn't entirely satisfied but it is clear the wound is both not too serious and healing. They arrange to meet up before Benjamin has to return to Middlebrook and Benedict agrees he will send a message the following day to organize a meeting, entirely above board. 

He gives Benjamin a few minutes' head start before he too returns to the party. Franks is at the foot of the stairs frowning and for a moment Benedict is concerned about what he might have seen but the soldier only asks if he has seen his sister.

Towards the end of the evening, George finally pulls him aside. He fears for a moment, when he speaks of valuable members of Congress, that George is going to tell him he is taking Reed's side, even knowing of his personal dislike of the man. But then he assures him he will speak the Board of Inquiry and make arrangements to settle the matter, calls him honorable and devoted. Relief washes over him and Benedict doesn't know how to thank him.

Before he leaves, Washington claims a dance with Miss Shippen and Benedict knows the polite thing to do if to ask Martha to join the set. He hopes he will not show them up too badly with his limp. He sees Benjamin watching, tries to keep any sign of pain from his face, hopes his discomfort isn't too obvious.

Benedict sends a message to Benjamin the next morning with a dinner invitation. He tells Peggy they will be having a private meal and she looks hopeful. "Does that mean you have changed your mind, my love? About Major André's offer. Will you try to get the information he has requested? Are you sure you don't want me there?"

He gives her an unimpressed look. "I will not. I have already told you I am done with that."

She is eventually convinced to stay away for the evening and, once dinner is served, he and Benjamin have the house to themselves, more privacy than they have ever had before. Over dinner Benjamin tells him more about his close call with Gamble and, though he makes light of it, Benedict can tell it had affected him. The thought of Benjamin in André's hands leaves him feeling cold, hadn't he feared just that plan when his latest message came. "Benjamin, I cannot lose you."

Benjamin frowns but reassures him. “As you can see, I’m fine now.”

“But you nearly weren’t. How did you make it back to camp?”

He looks almost embarrassed. “I didn’t. I found a remote homestead, where I was taken in by a young widow, Sarah, Sarah Livingston. She dug the ball out, sewed me up and helped care for me while I recovered.”

The expression on Benjamin’s face tells him there was more to it than that. “There is something you’re not saying.”

He actually blushes. “We may have gotten very friendly once I had recovered a little.”

“Really?” Benedict can’t help the surge of arousal at that thought. “Did you charm her back to camp?”

Benjamin shakes his head ruefully. “Well, the next morning I discovered she was a Tory, which put a dampener on things.”

“Shite." He reaches out to touch him, not sure if it's for Benjamin's reassurance or his own. "Did she know you were a Patriot?"

Looking embarrassed, Benjamin nods. "I told her I was, right before she told me how the 'rebels' killed her husband."

Even with the evidence of Benjamin's continued safety before him, Benedict still feels his stomach twist at the thought of the danger he had been in. "What happened?" he demands. "How did you get away?"

Benjamin shrugs. “When Lieutenant Gamble came calling, she covered for me, said she hadn't seen anyone. I can only hope she will come around to our side eventually. Perhaps seeing how he behaved will convince her.”

Reluctantly, Benedict lets the matter drop and, after dinner, he offers to give Benjamin a tour of the house, which ends in the master bedroom. Benjamin looks at him with desire in his eyes and Benedict pulls him into an embrace.

It doesn’t take long after that before he is kneeling on the bed, Benjamin spread out naked under him. Benedict kisses over the old mark on his shoulder, works his way down to the new scar and then further. Benjamin’s enthusiasm at his touch is a balm after so long of Peggy’s passivity.

As they lie together afterwards, Benedict is struck by how right it feels to have Benjamin here with him, even after four months' separation. “I can hardly believe it has only been a year since we first met,” he says, running fingers through Benjamin’s loose hair.

He smiles up to him, eyes half-lidded with tiredness. “And in the New Year it’ll be a year since we first shared a bed.”

Benedict shudders at the memory. “And yet you’ll be miles away in Middlebrook.”

“I’ll try to visit,” Benjamin promises. “Perhaps I can ask for a furlough to see my father and then we can mark the date.”

He doesn’t want to let him go but he can’t stay the night. As Benjamin redresses, Benedict reaches for a pillbox he had set on the side, saying, "If it’s not inappropriate, I do have a gift of sorts for you now." Benjamin looks confused as he takes it, which is fair since it's not labelled - that wouldn't do him any favors. "They're Hooper's pills," he explains, he had arranged for Hannah to send them down from New Haven, certain that if anyone were intercepting his post they would assume it was Miss Shippen he was sleeping with. "I don't know if you've seen them advertised. I thought you might not have access to something like this or, perhaps there are others in your unit who might find them useful."

Benjamin turns his eyes down, a hand clenching at his shirt. "You know I thought... after Monmouth...” He bites his lip and then looks away. “My courses were late."

Benedict feels something twist inside him. "My love. Benjamin, why didn't you tell me? You didn't need to bear that alone."

He shrugs, finally looking up. "I was going to, but then you came to the camp all wound up with the charges and I couldn't bring myself to burden you further."

"You are never a burden to me," Benedict promises, pulling him down into a kiss and it is some time before Benjamin actually manages to leave.

The following day Benjamin comes to visit whilst Washington is meeting with Congress, so they can conduct their official business. They discuss the letters with André and Benedict repeats the declaration he made to Peggy that he will have no further part in this. Benjamin takes it in his stride, but asks him not to write to André with his decision, to leave the line of communication open for now.

Reluctantly Benedict agrees, though he doesn’t know if Peggy will contact him directly. He cannot ask her about it without making her suspicious and she has been acting strangely since the ball.

As they finish Benedict, thinking of his last conversation with Reverend Tallmadge, asks if Benjamin is going to see his father while he is here, or Strong, and he winces.

“I will try but I doubt Selah will want to speak to me considering he thinks I’m putting his wife in danger. And he’s not entirely wrong.”

Benedict frowns. “You’re letting a woman do intelligence work?” It takes him a moment to work out why that makes Benjamin laugh. “But you’re not…”

“No, of course I’m not. But it’s good to know you really don’t think of me that way.”

"I never have," he assures him and it's mostly true. Sure he has had fantasies of them having a life together after the war, but it is always as he is now; somehow his imagination falters at the idea of Benjamin in feminine clothing, whatever he knows is beneath his uniform.

As Benjamin smiles up at him, Benedict knows he will never suggest any such thing, however much he wishes it could be different. He will have to be satisfied with the life he is making here with Peggy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some historical notes:
> 
> Washington did go to Philadelphia in the winter of 1778 at the invitation of Henry Laurens, then President of the Continental Congress. Unlike in TURN, he actually stayed there for some time but I have gone with the series for this.
> 
> Hooper's pills (http://historywired.si.edu/object.cfm?ID=39) were a real thing, which both druggists and doctors sold to treated "obstruct'd menses." Hooper's Female Pills "combin[ed] Barbados aloes with iron sulfate, hellebore, and myrrh as the major ingredients" and they were widely advertised in Philadelphia newspapers from the middle of the eighteenth century so, as a former druggist, Arnold would likely have been aware of them.


	8. 3.07 Judgement

Washington is as good as his word and it is only a matter of days after he leaves Philadelphia before Benedict finally receives the date for his court martial, and it is to be within the week. After so long waiting, he doesn’t feel prepared now it has come to the point, but he is determined to defend himself against Reed's slander.

As he gets ready to head to the tavern at Middlebrook where it is to be held, Benedict has a strange conversation with Peggy who seems to not only have accepted his decision not to turn coat but is actually trying to help him clear his name. He assures her he would no sooner betray her than his country but feels a twinge of guilt as he says it since he imagines she would consider his relationship with Benjamin a such betrayal. Given which came first, he does not see it that way.

Once in front of the court he takes her advice, stays calm, doesn't allow any of their lies to get to him, and the first day goes well. The other Generals are swayed to his point of view and he takes particular pleasure in destroying Reed's witness. The only sour note is that he is expecting to dine alongside them and with so many eyes on him can neither make an excuse to see Benjamin nor risk him visiting. He will not allow this farce of a trial to stain Benjamin's reputation in any way.

It is over within just a few days and, though Benedict is not entirely happy with the verdict, he knows realistically the official reprimand is little more than a sop to his accusers, and at least Reed’s obvious displeasure make it feel more of a victory. It may be vindictive of him but he takes pleasure in knowing the man has had to come all the way out to Middlebrook, and be reminded of how he has forfeited his own place at Washington's side, only to be thwarted in his endeavours.

He, on the other hand, returns to Philadelphia in triumph and makes arrangements to have the court transcript printed in its entirety. He may have promised Benjamin he would not write to André with his decision but he wants to know the man has seen it in New York and understands he was wrong about him. Benedict even has it printed in French so their allies are left with no doubts about his integrity. It is not cheap but now there is no barrier preventing his reimbursement he does not worry too much about the cost. It surely won't be long now until he is repaid and then he can move on.

He finds André's servant woman, Abigail has visited in his absence and left a message with Grace for him to pass onto Benjamin. Benedict hesitates but ultimately decides not to open it; he trusts Benjamin and if the contents relate to André's plans for him or Peggy, surely he will let him know. 

It worries him though that he wouldn't otherwise have known the woman had been as Peggy neither mentions it nor passes on any letter from André. He supposes she must have written him to let him know of his change of heart but then how to explain her suggestions for the court martial, which worked so well. Is it André's instructions which have her now supporting him to remain with the Continental Army for some further plan or, realizing the plot has failed has André released her and she is now determined to forge her own path? He wishes he could trust that she truly shares his feelings but this whole business has given him too much cause for doubt.

Still, buoyed by his success, Benedict takes the first printing of the pamphlet and heads back to Middlebrook to discuss what will happen following his exoneration. He is disappointed not to be able to see Washington but doubtless he has other concerns after Lee's recent publication in the Philadelphia press. He would like to think his court martial will overtake Lee's spite in conversation but it will not have the same appeal to the public. At least he has heard that Lee has already been challenged to several duels over the matter.

Knox is supportive, shares his pleasure at having cleared his name, but when Benedict ventures to ask about the backpay he is owed, Henry tells him his money will not be forthcoming despite the verdict. He seems surprised that Benedict should have considered it was the court martial delaying it, and when tells him outright that he should consider his honor of greater value, Benedict is angry. He had thought Henry, of all people, would understand - he too was a businessman, not a wealthy landowner like Washington.

Benedict is shaken by this news; he can ill-afford to write off ten thousand pounds, who could? He hadn't truly expected to be reimbursed in full immediately, but had thought at least a first instalment would be forthcoming. Even a thousand would make a difference but that they would offer him nothing... What use is his honor if his family suffers?

Part of him wants to leave camp immediately but he isn't certain he wants to return to Philadelphia in this mood, especially when he left Peggy with the certainty his fortune would be restored shortly. Besides, he needs to speak with Benjamin, pass on the letter from André’s servant woman. He imagines her visit will be the last contact they receive with the British officer and doubts it will come as any great loss. Benjamin hadn't seemed to suggest he had gotten anything worthwhile out of the letters anyway.

Though he usually disdains its use in town, Benedict is glad of his walking stick as he crosses the icy camp; snow has come early this year and the ground conditions are poor. When he reaches the Dragoons' tents, Ensign Fletcher is the only officer present and he struggles to hide his disappointment. "I was hoping to find Major Tallmadge?"

"He's meeting with General Knox," Fletcher tells him, explaining about Benjamin getting into a fight over the treatment of a prisoner and Benedict is concerned to realise he must have been one of the officers Knox was referring to with the dispute he had to settle. Fletcher won't elaborate further but, with a knowing look, tells him to wait inside Benjamin's tent where it is warmer.

Benedict isn't waiting long before Benjamin returns, obviously distressed. He doesn't even seal the tent entrance before he is in Benedict's arms but he knows Fletcher will not let them be disturbed.

Once Benjamin has calmed down enough to explain the prisoner in question had been the Tory woman who'd saved his life back in the fall, and that she had died in their custody, Benedict understands better. He sits on the edge of the bed, pulls Benjamin into his lap and holds him while he gets the tears out. He knows him well enough to tell his grief will burn out soon enough.

Indeed, Benjamin slowly draws away as he pulls himself together and his hands clench into fists. "She didn’t even need to be there still," he says. "I gave her the opportunity to save herself, why wouldn’t she listen?”

There is the anger Benedict was expecting. He doubts Benjamin would have compromised his beliefs even to save his life if the roles had been reversed but it doesn’t seem like that would be helpful to point out just now so Benedict holds his tongue. “You can’t save everyone, Benjamin,” he says instead.

He shakes his head indignantly. “I should have been able to save her," Benjamin insists. "It’s my fault she decided to get involved in the first place.”

Benedict frowns. “Where did you get that idea from?”

“She said it was me who showed her she couldn't stay out of the war when I turned up on her doorstep.”

There is nothing Benedict can say to that, as much as he wishes he could lift this burden of guilt from him.

Benjamin is pacing the tent now. "How dare he try to make such demands of her?"

He is shaking and Benedict realises that there is more than the shock of seeing his rescuer again, more than the grief at a life lost so pointlessly, it is also partially fear. If another officer would sink so low as to try to rape a prisoner in their main camp, how can Benjamin feel safe here either. 

Benedict feels helpless. He has no command, no money, and the only place to take the fight to is Congress, where he has no support. When Benjamin, no longer angry but still shaking, confides in him that his intelligence network is falling apart, Benedict is almost tempted to suggest taking up the British offer. This war needs to be ended one way or another, or it will drag on for years and ruin countless more lives. Benjamin's Tory friend is a case in point - how can they carry on when the Continental Army is just causing more harm to their fellow Americans than the distant King, who probably doesn't care about any of them.

If Benjamin would come with him, he knows enough to cripple the Continental war efforts. But there is no guarantee the British will keep even their vague promise of compensation to him, let alone accept Benjamin as he is and besides, many of the patriots will fight to their dying breath. There is no easy way out on that route if Congress will not yield.

He brushes Benjamin's hair back off his face. "Come back to Philadelphia with me," he says instead.

Benjamin understandably refuses. "And do what exactly? My father may be there but it is not my home."

"What about Connecticut then?" He could return to his business and his boys. Surely the school Benjamin had taught at before would take him back or if not there was always work for a tutor.

Frowning, Benjamin asks, “What do you mean?”

Benedict takes his hand, holding his gaze with as much sincerity as he can. "We could just leave. There’s nothing left for me here or in Philadelphia. You could come with me, offer to resign?” He is surprised by the depth of his own feelings, how tempted he is by the idea.

But Benjamin shakes his head. “You know I can’t do that. I have to see this through. If Washington will let me.”

“And if he won’t?” Benedict asks.

“Well then maybe I’ll take you up on your offer.” Benjamin pulls his hand away. “Besides, I have an idea.”

He is shocked when Benjamin asks him if he would be willing to resume his correspondence with André. For a moment Benedict just stares at him, surely he doesn't mean he should contact him in truth, so what does Benjamin hope to gain from it? He doesn't like the feeling of being used and besides, "I've been exonerated. Why will he believe I would still have need of them?" he asks.

"Money. That's what they believe you want, isn't it?” Benjamin replies. “That’s what Lee kept saying and we know he was in league with the British."

Reluctantly, Benedict agrees and Benjamin helps him draft the letter, assuring him he will keep a copy amongst his own papers as evidence that he has sanctioned it.

And so Benedict returns alone to Philadelphia and Peggy. He cannot bring himself to tell her the truth, that he has no prospect of regaining his fortune in the foreseeable future. She is accustomed to wealth and comfort, how will she react when she learns he can no longer offer her that. It is only a matter of time before he runs out of lines of credit, before his creditors start to demand repayment.

When she says he should have the wife he deserves, it certainly isn’t her he thinks of first but she seems genuine when she suggests bringing their wedding forwards. He makes an excuse about his leg to get some space. He needs someone neutral to talk the whole situation through with but who can he entrust with Benjamin's secret.

His fellow officers in Philadelphia are out of the question and he has no true friends in the city. He rules out Benjamin's father and his friend, Strong, mostly for the awkwardness of having to explain their relationship, and discounts the other ministers, he doesn't know any of them well enough to trust them and the man Benjamin had killed proved that traitors will have no respect for the sanctity of confession. He is briefly tempted to confide in Peggy herself, wondering if he could surprise her into honesty, if they could find some common ground in being caught up in the war for intelligence but he still isn't certain where she now stands. Which only leaves one possible confidante.

He waits for an evening he knows Peggy has other plans, then when Grace brings him a plate to his study, invites her to join him. He isn't entirely certain how much she knows about Benjamin's situation but since her sibling is in a similar position and under his command, he is certain she can be trusted. Plus she has been willing to assist with André's messenger.

It is initially awkward, trying to explain his relationship with Benjamin and she seems uncomfortable but he pushes through.

Grace listens attentively and he is grateful for her patience until he finishes. "What do you want me to say?" she asks cautiously.

"I don't know," he admits. "I feel like I must be missing an answer which would make this all make sense. I don't want to make the wrong decision and it feels like I'm walking an ever-narrowing ledge." He hopes she has had enough interactions with Peggy to help him understand her. For all he is a spy, Benjamin is always open with him; Peggy's motives remain inscrutable. 

"Do you love... well, either of them?" she says.

"Yes." He can say that much without hesitation.

Grace nods thoughtfully. "And do they love you?"

That is harder to answer. He wants to believe Peggy has truly come to love him as he does her but he cannot read her. He knows Benjamin's feelings more clearly but are they enough when he has his duty? And regardless of what he feels they cannot be together openly.

Grace tells him he must decide what he truly wants, where does he want to be in ten years' time but Benedict cannot even imagine where he will be a year from now. "I just want to do my best for my country and my family," he says. "I don't want to repeat my father's mistakes." He shudders as he remembers the shame he had felt everytime his father had been brought home drunk; he never wants his sons to feel that way.

"I don't know about your father, but you have served with honor and given your family ever reason to be proud of you," she says.

Though she seems sincere, Benedict shakes his head. "Honor won't feed my sons. I should have died a hero at Saratoga, then at least Congress would have had no excuse not to support them." He knows he sounds bitter but it is hard not to.

"Don't you think they'd rather a living father than a dead hero?" Grace asks.

"I'd sooner not have to worry about affording their education," he replies.

She frowns. "Do you not believe in the Patriot cause?"

The accusation stings. "Of course I do." What kind of question was that?

Still she continues, "Then do you not believe they can win?"

“What?” Perhaps he has had his moments of doubt but it isn't that he doesn't believe in the army; whatever he thinks of the man, Von Steuben's training has worked wonders. Rather he worries about how long the war will drag on and how much damage will be done in the process.

Grace leans back in her seat. “This war won’t last forever and if you believe we can win it then believe that your sons will understand the sacrifices you have made for their future. If you give up now, aren’t you telling them that they can never change things?”

She might be right but it is still hard to let go of the thought he could end this sooner. “If Congress would be reasonable, I wouldn’t even need to be thinking about this," he says. "Is it wrong to be tired of fighting? Of keeping making sacrifices which aren’t appreciated?”

“Of course not," she says, "but it’s wrong to give up. The Lord never gives us more than we can handle.”

“He must believe I’m a bloody miracle worker then with everything I’ve had to put up with,” Benedict grouses.

Grace shakes her head at the blasphemy but she is smiling now and Benedict actually feels better. His situation doesn't seem quite so hopeless after all. He will find a way through this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on timings - I've no idea what date the show thinks this episode was but, since it's shortly after Thanksgiving, I've decided here it is shortly after General Lee published his "Vindication," in the Pennsylvania Packet on December 3, 1778 and was promptly challenged to a duel by John Laurens (as we all know) as well as General Wayne (more on him next time).


	9. 3.08 Mended

Fortunately the winter is not dull in Philadelphia, keeping Benedict distracted from his own concerns. Henry Laurens steps down as President of Congress, and then is probably glad to have done so when news of his son's duel with Charles Lee breaks. No-one hears about the duel until after it has happened and Lee is being treated for a wound to his side. Benedict wishes he could have been there himself to see Lee brought low by a man nearly half his age. Aside from serving as Laurens' second, Colonel Hamilton, one of Washington's trusted aides, brings messages from Benjamin and smirks at him knowingly. Benedict grinds his teeth, as he forces himself to thank him.

He still cannot find a way to break the news about his money to Peggy; he doesn't want to bother her with such mundane concerns. In some ways Benedict is glad she wants to bring the wedding forward, their engagement is costing him a small fortune and she surely will be less inclined towards frivolous expenditure once they are settled and thinking about starting a family together. He does worry about presenting his boys with a new stepmother and sibling at the same time, especially when Peggy is so young herself, but he is certain they will quickly come to love her too.

Benjamin manages to spare a few days between Christmas and the new year to travel to Philadelphia. He doesn't warn Benedict of his visit in advance so the first he learns of it is when Franks knocks on his office door saying, "Messenger from Washington for you, sir."

"Send them in," he says, without looking up. He hears the sound of the door closing and footsteps approaching his desk as he writes out his report but before he can finish a familiar voice speaks. 

"Are you too busy to greet me properly?"

"Benjamin," he exclaims with delight, as he comes to his feet. "What are you doing here?" He makes his way around the desk to close the distance.

"Well, it is Christmas." Benjamin's smile is hesitant, as though he is unsure of his welcome.

Benedict takes his hand, clasps his shoulder. They cannot risk anything more here but it is enough for Benjamin's expression to soften. "Where are you staying?" he asks. "I have spare rooms here..." 

Benjamin looks tempted but shakes his head. "I'm staying with my father," he says, regretfully.

Casting around for a reason for Benjamin to stay a little longer, even though it has been barely a month since they saw each other last, Benedict asks, "Have you eaten yet? I can ask Grace to make up an extra plate for you."

Benjamin agrees but seems on edge over dinner, which he explains away as concern for his friend Brewster who is carrying out some intelligence work on his behalf. Benedict wants to ask more but he knows how tight-lipped Benjamin gets about such matters. It hurts a little that he will not trust him in this, when he has with so much else, but he tries not to show it and at least, if he doesn't know anything, André cannot get the information out of him. 

They manage to meet up several times during Benjamin's stay, taking advantage of being able to hide their trysts behind a veil of military matters, though they still have to be careful since there are other officers around during the day. They have a close call when Peggy drops by early one evening unannounced but Grace is able to give them enough of a warning to make themselves decent. 

They discuss Benedict and Peggy’s forthcoming wedding, with Benjamin being the one to speculate if her desire to move the date forward is from a suspicion she may be pregnant. Benedict tries to keep the hopefulness from his tone. He had said he didn't want more children but he realized months back what a lie that was. At least Benjamin doesn't seem concerned nor jealous at the thought.

It comes round to Benjamin's last day in Philadelphia and they are sitting in his study with just enough distance between them for propriety when a courier arrives. Benedict opens the message to find an official offer for the command of West Point and can't help the smile of satisfaction spreading across his face.

Benjamin tilts his head at him curiously. "Good news?"

"They're giving me West Point," he says. He had discussed the post previously with General Schuyler, one of the few who still respects his successes, but hadn't wanted to say anything to Benjamin for fear of disappointment. It may not be the field command he could have wished for but it is still closer to the front lines than Philadelphia. Maybe Knox was right that the court martial has truly restored his reputation and he is finally being given the recognition he deserves. If only it would come with more money though.

"Can I be the first to congratulate you," Benjamin says, but his smile seems forced and he looks thoughtful rather than pleased at the news.

"I would have thought you'd be happy for me," he says, unable to keep the hurt from his voice. Does even Benjamin doubt his ability to serve now?

"I am, I definitely am," Benjamin protests. "I was only thinking..."

He seems hesitant to elaborate, biting his bottom lip, so Benedict encourages him. "Go on."

Benjamin nods, taking a deep breath. "Well, the British are going to be very interested at getting their hands on West Point, right?"

"Right..." Benedict thinks he knows where this is going and he isn't sure he likes it.

"So once you're settled there, you should ask André to arrange a meeting in person."

That isn't what he had expected and Benedict frowns. How far is Benjamin hoping to take this deception? At this point he almost feels that he may as well actually take their deal. "He's not going to do that without believing I am willing to commit. What am I supposed to tell him?"

"That's not the point," Benjamin says. "If we can lure him into land we control, we can take him out of the game for good."

Benedict feels a wave something like hope bubbling up. He hadn't even realised that was the intention with this but now he can see how Benjamin has used their correspondence to play André at his own game. He understands that Benjamin wants revenge for Sackett's death but he has his own incentive to support it; with André out of the picture, Peggy will be his alone.

They discuss how to entice the British officer out, what steps to take to ensure he is vulnerable. Benedict can tell Benjamin is carefully avoiding bringing up the question of Peggy and how she will react to André's death but he isn't concerned. There is no reason she should ever know the truth.

He is not ready to say goodbye when the time comes for Benjamin to return to Middlebrook but Benedict reminds himself that once he is based at West Point it will be easier for them to see each other. Perhaps Benjamin could base a company of his dragoons out of the fort, after all he has said before that many of them come from Connecticut and Massachusetts.

With his worsening financial straits, Benedict cannot keep the servants that Penn Mansion really needs. Grace Fletcher is staying out of pity he is certain, since he owes her two months of wages and even Judge Shippen comments on it. He will be glad to sell the place on and has already received offers of considerably more than he paid for it, to help them find a place near West Point, which also has the advantage of being closer to his family.

Sadly Peggy doesn't share his pleasure at the news, especially accompanied by the realization they will be leaving Philadelphia behind. He wouldn't fault her concern if it was about the separation from her family but it seems to be her social life she is more concerned about. If Peggy does not wish to live near the Fort then perhaps she could move into his house in New Haven. Even with the reversal of their fortunes and his father's disgrace, the Arnold name still carries weight and with Peggy's beauty and charm she could easily rule the social scene there. He considers encouraging it as he could manage well enough in field quarters, whilst one household would be cheaper to maintain than two, and it would be easier for him to entertain Benjamin.

In the run up to the wedding he hears the news about the withdrawal from Middlebrook and Governor Tryon's abortive attack along with the counterassault on Stony Point. Benjamin is commended in dispatches for his efforts there and he is proud of him, knowing how close he had come to despair, and also somewhat relieved that his plan had worked.

In Benjamin's own letter, which follows only a day or so later, as well as assuring him he made it through unscathed, he describes the battle, how they had attacked in the dead of night with bayonets only, how the British had surrendered within moments. He comments on how he was inspired by their discussions about his attack on Quebec City, the merits of doing the unexpected, and in cipher thanks him for providing the bait.

His and Peggy's wedding is brought forward to early January, just a few days before his birthday. When the day of the wedding dawns at last, it isn't the public triumph Benedict had envisaged; a small affair after all Peggy's grand talk, only her closest family and a few friends for his side in the front room of Penn Mansion.

Up until the point the ceremony begins, he is tempted to call it off, almost wishes for someone to stand up and object. He is glad the minister is an acquaintance of the Shippens, for he could not have faced one he knew better. Even so Benedict feels a surge of guilt as he takes the marriage vows, promising to forsake all others, that he knows he will not keep. Peggy's face shows a similar struggle and for a moment he thinks she won't go through with it. But then it is done, they are married.

The wedding breakfast is almost subdued as the Shippens don't appear to know what to make of Peggy's insistence that there should be minimal fuss. Judge Shippen in particular makes several comments about his financial difficulties and Benedict is grateful they will be moving away shortly.

Despite everything which has already passed between them, Peggy seems almost nervous when it comes to their actual wedding night. Benedict wants to show her how much he treasures her and she seems surprised when he works his way down between her legs. He feels smug that André had apparently never done this for her, remembers Benjamin’s reaction the first time.

In the days which follow, Benedict receives a note of congratulations from Washington, the pleasure of which is marred when it is followed by the official reprimand in dispatches, as per the court martial. He hears nothing from Benjamin before he leaves Philadelphia.

It is only a couple of weeks later that they set out for West Point. Benedict is grateful of the excuse to travel in a carriage alongside his new bride. He could make the ride on horseback but is glad he doesn't have to. They take their time, resting in inns along the way and it is almost a pleasant journey.

He has accepted the lease on the Robinson House, beside the fort, and has arranged for them to spend a few days visiting Hannah and the boys, whilst servants make the house ready for them. The proceeds from the sale of Penn Mansion have cleared the majority of his debts in the city but only Grace Fletcher has accompanied them from Philadelphia, along with Peggy's personal maid, with the rest being hired from the local area.

They cross the frozen Hudson at Peekskill whilst their baggage continues onto the fort and it is only another day from there onto New Haven. Peggy seems anxious but he is too excited at the thought of being reunited with his sons to reassure her properly.

When their carriage finally pulls up outside, he sees their faces in the window. Hannah has them in hand until he is through the door and then all restraint is gone. Even though it pains him when they knock his leg, Benedict has missed having his boys in his arms too much to complain. How they all have grown, especially Henry who was still in skirts when he last saw him. Hannah looks tired but happy and it is good to see her again too.

It takes several minutes before he realizes Peggy is standing awkwardly in the hall and makes introductions. Benedict had hoped Peggy might take to his boys, though he knew it would take Hannah longer to warm to her, but she seems to be happy keeping her distance.

It is strange to have Peggy here in the home he had shared with his first Margaret and it must be stranger for her. It is also clear she is ill at ease with his family though she tries to get to know them. Still, small boys' sticky fingers don't go with her fine dresses and it is with a heavy heart that he sees her struggling to keep her composure with them.

Hannah pulls him aside one morning, whilst Peggy is still having her hair arranged. "Are you really happy with her?" she asks, bluntly.

"Of course I am," he says instinctively, but Hannah knows him too well.

She frowns at him. "You're not acting like it. You've spent most of your time here with the boys and she seems to spend half of hers playing with her hair and clothes."

Given Peggy has been embroidering items for their home, that's not a fair accusation but then Hannah never had much patience for such fancy things. "If I were to spend my days with her and not the boys, you'd be complaining about that instead."

Hannah shrugs. "You'd still think a pair of newlyweds would have more time for each other. But what does an old maid know."

It wasn't as though she'd had any lack of suitors but Hannah had never shown any interest in marrying. For the first time, Benedict wonders if he's offended his sister by bringing Peggy to what is really her home more than his these days. Still, he knows she would scorn any sign of pity. "I could almost think you were jealous," he says instead.

She shakes her head. "I won't deny she's pretty but I thought you find someone more practical. Does she even know anything about running a household? I tried to talk to her about the store but she brushed me off."

"I'm sure she was only trying not to tread on your toes," he says since Peggy had seemed confident enough managing the house for the short time they had been in Philadelphia. "She hasn't decided yet if she will be staying here or coming back to West Point with me." If she still plans to come back with him, there is little point her taking an interest in the house here or the store.

"That you even asked the question tells me plenty," Hannah says sharply. "Really, Benedict, what were you thinking?"

Benedict thinks he should introduce her to the Fletcher siblings, they have no respect for him either. "That I love her," he says.

Hannah sighs deeply. "Just like a man. Well, don't come running to me when your child bride turns out to need more than you can provide."

That strikes too close to home and though Benedict protests he knows Hannah can tell it is a token gesture. He does love Peggy, is amazed every time he looks at her that she would settle for someone like him, which is a reminder of her history with André. He pushes the thought away, instead idly wondering what Hannah would make of Benjamin. He almost wishes there was a way they could meet; she would probably find more in common with him than Peggy.

Although she is still distant with Hannah and the boys, New Haven is a great deal grander than the house at West Point and so Benedict offers Peggy the choice again of staying behind here rather than accompanying him back. They are close enough for regular visits and it is safe territory to travel through but Peggy insists she will stay with him and so it is they make their way to the fort together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> History time...
> 
> So the Battle of Stony Point - I’ve seen some meta about how it’s a take on Hamilton’s “take the bullets out your gun” which is amusing because IRL Hamilton probably got the idea of doing that at Yorktown from the actual Battle of Stony Point (which Tallmadge was not involved in) or the Battle of Fort St. George (which he was). The in-series assault on Stony Point is actually a pretty accurate account of the latter battle, if way out of sync timeline wise.
> 
> Ironically, General “Mad” Anthony Wayne got the idea from a British attack on his camp on the night of September 20–21, 1777, in the Battle of Paoli when General Charles Grey ordered his men to remove their flints and attack with bayonets in order to keep their assault secret.
> 
> On July 16, 1779, Wayne replicated the attack and personally led a bayonets-only night attack lasting thirty minutes. Wayne's three columns of light infantry stormed and captured British fortifications at Stony Point.
> 
> Benjamin Tallmadge repeated the feat at Fort St.George when he led a force of about 80 men (drawn from his Dragoons) across Long Island Sound in whaleboats on November 21, 1780, ordering his men to leave their muskets unloaded and have bayonets fixed. Tallmadge's party was not spotted in the early dawn light until it was within 37m of the stockade, and a sentry fired his weapon to raise the alarm. At this point Tallmadge's men rushed the stockade. The main house was surrounded and surrendered "in less than ten minutes".


	10. 3.09 Blade on the Feather

Benedict's initial examinations of the fort are less than promising. It is in need of many repairs, with equipment and supplies missing or in poor condition and its men not much better off. Kościuszko's defences are impressive, though he would expect nothing less after seeing his work at Ticonderoga and again at Saratoga, but they are incomplete. The great chain is their main defence against British ships now the thaw has come and they can again move freely up the Hudson. Arrangements need to be made to check its condition after the winter but it is not a simple process.

Mindful of Benjamin's suggestion, he writes to André, giving just enough details about the state of the fort to tempt his superiors and including enough demands to keep them believing him truly blinded by greed. At least if they try to attack based on the information he has provided they will likely send too few men and to the wrong places - and if they can be tricked into destroying their own ships in an attempt to break the chain then he wouldn't complain.

Colonel Jameson is the best of a bad bunch so he assigns the man to hold the downriver post, which might be the most crucial to Benjamin's plan working. He cannot risk revealing any of their plans so makes a show of being disappointed with the colonel's demeanor as an excuse. He tells Jameson he is to report in every morning; if he is as dedicated as his references suggest, it should be enough to keep him on his guard.

Benedict writes to Benjamin, relieved that with this at least he needn't bother with code nor cipher as he has no doubt Benjamin will easily be able to work out who he is referring to when he mentions he is expecting a visit from a Mr. John Anderson from New York. He asks Benjamin to give him an escort or to come himself, if his business will permit, and enjoys the mental image of André believing he is leading his counterpart into a trap only to discover too late it is he who has been caught out.

When he finally receives a letter back from Benjamin, assuring him he has passed the details onto his Dragoons, he is relieved that he has not been forgotten, though Benjamin makes no reference to his marriage. Benedict continues to exchange letters with André and they get closer to arranging a meeting face-to-face. He says nothing to Peggy; as far as he is aware she hasn't received anything from André since they left Philadelphia and there is no need to give her any cause to doubt her decision.

Benjamin's letters encourage him, assuring Benedict he is doing the right thing and promising he will visit as soon as he can. It is just his luck that Benjamin's first real opportunity to visit comes under Washington's watchful eye. Benedict receives only a bare few hours warning of their commander's visit, passing through on his way to Hartford to meet with their French allies, accompanied by his lap dog, Lafayette, and the ubiquitous Hamilton, just enough to have rooms prepared but not to make the kind of arrangements he would have liked.

In person, Benjamin politely congratulates him and Peggy on their marriage but Benedict cannot meet his eye. His letters have been as affectionate as ever but he knows this cannot help but to have changed their relationship. They need to speak privately, not only about the business with André. Still, he is grateful to have the comfort of his presence.

Hamilton sets his teeth on edge but not as much as watching his wife flirting with the Marquis, nor Lafayette's assertion that her beauty is spoken of in the salons of Paris. He has never had much time for the French, remembering what they had allowed to happen at Fort William Henry in '57, and had no reason to change his mind for this Frenchman, who had so quickly and undeservedly been given the rank Benedict had fought for, and usurped his place in Washington’s councils.

When Peggy makes her excuses to leave, he is relieved. Though he knows she and Benjamin met in Philadelphia, having them in the same room makes him uneasy. He passes around drinks and offers up a toast, encouraging Washington to join him by the fire. The commander has his hair powdered again, no doubt in deference to the French and he cannot keep his disdain from his tone when he comments on it.

He could have cursed when Franks presents him the letter from 'John Anderson' in front of Washington. Reluctantly he reads the letter out loud and is forced to prevaricate about the man’s identity as he tosses the note onto the fire. He knows Benjamin will have recognized the name and holds his gaze as he proposes a further toast as a distraction.

It is hard to get a moment alone with Benjamin but they manage it just before dinner. Benedict hates being so close without touching him but they cannot count on privacy here with so many other people in the house.

"When's he coming?" Benjamin asks in a low voice. There is no need to specify who he means.

"Tonight, if he has got my most recent note," Benedict says. "The Vulture should already be on its way up the river."

"He's not coming here though?" 

Benjamin looks nervous and Benedict is quick to reassure him. "No, I've hired a house a few miles downriver. I'll meet him there."

Benjamin nods. "I'll walk there with you. My dragoons will be prepared."

Benedict is about to argue when he hears footsteps approaching. They have just enough time to put an appropriate distance between them before Hamilton rounds the corner.

“Ah, Major. I hope I’m not interrupting...” he says, with that ever-present smirk which always makes Benedict want to wipe it off his face.

“Not at all,” Benjamin says, “I believe that was all, General?”

He was far from done, but he can hardly object in front of Hamilton. “Yes, thank you, Major.” They will have to finish their discussion later.

Dinner is awkward; Hamilton is apparently unable to tear himself away from his papers long enough to eat and has brought them to the table with him. Washington doesn’t reprimand him for it and so Benedict is forced to turn a blind eye to the implicit insult and play the happy host. It is hard for him not to spend the entire meal watching Benjamin, especially since Peggy is deep in conversation with Lafayette, but he manages to restrain the urge, forcing himself to make polite conversation with Washington which only increases his nerves about his forthcoming meeting.

Fortunately no-one wants to stay up late after they have eaten, since they have all had a long day of travelling, and he is able to ready himself to slip away without drawing attention to it. He tucks the falsified plans for West Point into his boot just as Peggy enters the room, already dressed for bed. 

She frowns when she sees him. "Where are you going?" she asks, her tone accusing.

"To inspect the lines," he lies. It is as good an excuse as any to allow he and Benjamin to head out late at night.

"This doesn't have anything to do with that letter you received then?" She sounds uncertain but Benedict internally curses; he hadn't realized she had overheard, had thought her upstairs already by then. 

He tries to evade the question. "Major Tallmadge wants to check on the pickets to ensure General Washington's safety."

A flicker of something he doesn't recognize crosses her expression when he mentions Benjamin's name and he fears again what André's plans for him may have been, but instead she continues. "Don't lie to me, Benedict. Why didn't you tell me Mr. Anderson was still writing to you?"

The emphasis she places on Anderson leaves no doubt she has guessed it is André, as cover names go it isn't exactly difficult to work out, but he had hoped to be able to keep her in the dark until it was over. "I don't have time for this." He doesn't want to keep Benjamin waiting and he needs to be in place to meet André.

"I don't understand," she says, sounding bewildered. "What are you planning? You told me it was over."

When he refuses to answer, she becomes belligerent, standing between him and the door, blocking him from leaving. Benedict struggles to contain his temper; whatever her feelings for André, Peggy doesn't deserve for him to take out his anger on her. "When I return I'll tell you everything, I promise."

"No more lies?" she asks, and he is almost fooled by her trembling tone before he recalls how she has lied to him through this whole affair. 

"If you will promise me the same," he tells her. Peggy's eyes widen and her lips quiver but he is unmoved for once and holds her gaze until she steps away from the door. Still, he doesn't want to leave her doubting his love; he will not hold André's manipulations against her. He reaches for her, presses a kiss to her temple as she turns her head away. "Everything will be fine, I promise."

By the time he gets downstairs, Benjamin is already waiting at the door, speaking with Franks in a low voice. He looks up at the sound of his footsteps and smiles and Benedict instantly feels better.

They walk towards the garrison until they are out of earshot of the house then Benedict clasps his arm. "I don't want you to come with me,” he says. “I don’t like the idea of you anywhere near him."

Benjamin sets his chin stubbornly. "Why not? What are you afraid of?"

Benedict wants to shake some sense into him but restrains his temper. "He's already tried to have you captured once," he says instead. "Do you really want to take that risk?"

"And what if he captures you?" Benjamin asks. "Or insists you leave with him?"

"If he can enforce that, in the middle of territory we hold, then there's nothing you would be able to do to stop him without getting yourself hurt," he points out. "And if I find myself escorted to New York, well, there is always André's servant woman."

Benjamin frowns but has to concede the point. "Well, my dragoons should be in place by now."

He nods. "I know if everything goes to plan it shouldn't matter, but should I mention Washington's presence here or not?"

Benjamin tilts his head thoughtfully. "If André is alone it should be safe enough; he's not going to make it back to New York with the information."

"And if he isn't alone?" Their plan relies on André believing he is willing to turncoat but even so, the British officer might not be prepared to risk his life on that.

"Use your own judgment." Benjamin hesitates a moment, looking back towards the lights of the fort. "I'll wait here until you return or..."

"I will," Benedict promises. "But I wouldn't refuse a kiss for luck?"

"You won't need it," Benjamin says with a soft smile but offers one anyway.

As Benedict makes his way to the Smith Hett house, he is glad he had made arrangements to use it for his meeting, rather than holding it at his home. He had thought to avoid giving Peggy and André any chance of a reunion but now, though it isn't a long walk, it is enough to keep Washington safe.

John André is not what he had expected, though he probably should have given how entranced Peggy had been with the man. There is even a moment where, in the face of the man's charm, he is considering whether he should make the lie into truth. They could bring the war to an abrupt end if the British were able to capture Washington and Lafayette; with Gates and Lee both already out of the picture, and their French allies held to ransom, Congress would have to agree terms.

Benedict dreams of being hailed as a peacemaker, surely Benjamin would understand, especially if he were to be rewarded for his part in it? But then André attempts to demand Peggy as part of their negotiations and Benedict is reminded of all the reasons he has already considered of why it would be a bad plan. The British officer has proved he cannot be trusted and Benedict is only able to hold himself back from violence with the knowledge of what they have already planned for the man’s fate. He takes a vindictive pleasure in telling him how he and Peggy are not just engaged but married, that she has been his for months now.

When the sound of the cannonade comes, he is relieved everything is going to plan. The Vulture will retreat downriver and André will vanish. He had ensured the supplies here include a set of civilian clothes but when he hands André the change of clothing he realizes he has forgotten shoes. Still, it seems to be that omission which breaks down André's suspicion and he quickly changes.

When André asks for the plans, Benedict hands them over to complete the trap. He feigns reluctance, insisting on the agreed sum and André has the audacity to try to insist on Peggy as his side of the bargain. Benedict pretends to hesitate before he agrees, though he knows it will never happen.

It is late by the time he gets back to the Robinson house but Benjamin is still waiting outside, pacing. "I heard the cannons. Is it done?"

"He's on his way to White Plains, on foot and in civilian clothes."

Benjamin smiles tightly. "Then I'll be going. He'll soon regret it."

"Be careful," Benedict pleads. They share a brief embrace before Benjamin disappears into the night, heading to the stables.

Peggy is already asleep when he finally makes it to bed and he is careful not to wake her. He isn't ready for that discussion, still angry at André's demands and the implications of them. By the time they get the chance to talk, it will not matter any more and she can weep all she likes at André's funeral.

The next morning, he oversleeps and comes downstairs to find Washington planning for his discussions with the French while breakfast is prepared. Though Benedict is frustrated not to be involved in the new offensive into Canada, especially since it is to be a joint operation with the French and that upstart Lafayette again usurping his place, he pretends to politeness, sharing his thoughts from his previous experience.

Benjamin still hasn't returned and Benedict is less equipped to handle making excuses for his absence nor to answer their questions about the previous night's activities. He manages to put them off until he receives a report from Jameson, when hopefully Benjamin will be back.

He is relieved at the proof he has made the right decision when, over breakfast, Washington offers him the field command he has been desperate for for so long now but he doesn't have the opportunity to relish it before a message arrives from Jameson which reveals their plan has gone awry; André has been captured by local militia and is in Jameson's custody. Even knowing Benjamin was not supposed to be near the actual ambush, Benedict prays nothing has happened to him and that, on realizing the plan had failed, he will still be able to intercept André.

Only a few minutes later, they are disturbed by shouting from outside. He makes his excuses to Washington but still isn't surprised when Hamilton follows him out to the courtyard. He immediately recognizes Brewster and Fletcher locked in an argument over a crumpled sheet of paper brandished in Brewster's fist.

Benedict feels cold, he can imagine what it must say and, with Benjamin not here to help him explain, it looks bad. He catches Brewster's eye simmering with barely controlled rage and it takes an effort not to flinch as the man lunges toward him. In an instant he knows there is only one way he can manage this, by taking control of the revelation himself. "Let him past, Fletcher," he says. "I imagine Lieutenant Brewster wishes to report his news to General Washington directly."

Brewster's expression turns to confusion and Benedict knows he can steer his way through this. "You bastard... where's Ben?" the bearded man asks.

"Hopefully on his way back here with a prisoner very shortly." Or a body - perhaps he could claim André had tried to escape and he had had to shoot him - but he would trust Benjamin to make the right decision.

"A prisoner?" Brewster seems completely thrown by his calm response and for a moment Benedict has the upper hand but it doesn't last.

"What exactly is going on here?" Washington asks. Hamilton must have fetched him when he had seen what was happening.

Benedict turns slowly, taking a deep breath. "Perhaps we can take this inside?" He meets Washington's gaze steadily, he has nothing to hide on this subject, even if it wasn't the most honorable way of going about things. After a moment Washington nods and steps back from the doorway. Benedict allows Brewster to go first, whilst he turns to Fletcher. "Bring Major Tallmadge through as soon as he returns."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've given up on matching TURN canon to history at this point...
> 
> Story-wise it's late spring in 1779 - from my reading it seems the Hudson could be frozen over well into March so probably April. Historically Lafayette returned to France in January 1779 and didn't return until April 1780 but then historically it was September/October 1780 that Arnold's treachery occurred and the series is only officially at Winter 1778/Spring 1779.


	11. 3.10 Trial and Execution

Benedict follows the others through into the drawing room. His heart is racing and he doesn't miss how Brewster has placed himself between he and Washington.

"I would like an explanation," Washington demands.

"Certainly," he says, forcing his tone to remain even. "I believe Lieutenant Brewster has a message he wants to deliver."

Brewster gives him another confused look but then turns to Washington. "This arrived from our agent in York City."

Washington straightens out the crumpled sheet of paper and it is clear when he has read what is presumably the incriminating line. He raises his eyes, his shock evident in his expression; Benedict holds himself as straight as possible, though he struggles not to tremble under the weight of Washington's regard as he asks, "You know what this says?"

"I have a good idea." Benedict refuses to let his nerves show, holding his head up high.

"Then, by God, I hope you have some explanation for this?" It is rare for Washington to be moved to blasphemy and Benedict knows how far this must have provoked him but he cannot explain this alone, he needs Benjamin here for this conversation.

"I do," he says, as steadily as he can, "but I would prefer to wait for Major Tallmadge to return. I believe he will be better able to answer your concerns."

A muscle moves in Washington's jaw as he visibly struggles to contain his temper. "Major Tallmadge knows about this?"

Brewster's expression is only a fraction off murderous and Benedict wishes he could reassure him that he would never do anything to harm Benjamin, though he doubts the man would believe a word he says right now.

Instead he focuses on Washington. "I swear, George, it is not what it seems." He fumbles for the message from Jameson and holds it out. "Perhaps this will help." 

He starts forward but Brewster blocks him, taking the note with a dark look and passing it to Washington himself.

If anything the contents of the note makes Washington's frown deepen but eventually he nods. "Very well, I will await Major Tallmadge. You can wait here."

Benedict sits in front of the fire, suddenly very tired. He strains to overhear the low conversations going on in the house. Has anyone told Peggy what is going on? Surely she is smart enough not to say anything which will incriminate her. 

An indeterminable amount of time passes before he hears raised voices outside and Benedict is surprised by the relief he feels at hearing Benjamin's voice. Though he had told Washington how he was certain Benjamin would return, he has still feared for him since he realized André had evaded their trap. Even though Benjamin shouldn't have been that close, Benedict knew the British wanted him captured, wanted the details of his spy network in New York.

He cannot make out their words but Benjamin sounds calm and Benedict has started to relax when there is a sudden cry and a crash from upstairs. Then he hears Peggy scream and bolts to his feet - what are they doing to her? Benedict flings open the door but finds his way barred by one of Washington's guard. 

"Please, General, wait here," the soldier says, even as Peggy cries out again.

"What are you doing to my wife?" he demands but the other man doesn’t back down, his grip tightening on his rifle. What do they think he is going to do - run away on his crippled leg? He just wants to see Peggy. 

Fortunately it is at that moment Franks comes down the stairs. He catches Benedict’s eye, looking nervous. "It's all right, sir, she's just hysterical."

"Then let me go to her," he says. What has she heard? Is it him or André she is panicking over?

The guard blanches. "I'm sorry, sir. General Washington's orders were clear."

"I'm sure she'll be fine, sir," Franks says. "Major Tallmadge is with her."

Benedict realizes suddenly he hasn’t had the chance to ask Benjamin to keep Peggy out of this. What if they are questioning her? He prays it is not that - she doesn’t deserve to be punished for the part she played; André was the one who had surely taken advantage of her tenderness. 

Reluctantly he lets himself be guided back into the drawing room. As much as he strains his ears, he hears nothing further for what feels like an age before the door opens and Benjamin enters, along with Hamilton. Benjamin smiles at him tightly. “General Arnold, I am sorry I could not return sooner.”

He acknowledges him with a nod, though he wishes he could do more. “It is not a problem, Major. I hope any… misunderstanding has now been cleared up?”

Hamilton clears his throat from his place in the doorway. “General Washington has agreed you may resume your duties for the moment, on your word that you will not try to leave.” His eyes trail down to his bad leg and he raises an eyebrow.

Benedict feels his face heat with humiliation. Does George really feel that is necessary? Still, “I will take any oath required,” he says. "And what of my wife?"

Hamilton tries to catch Benjamin's eye but he ignores the aide, focusing on Benedict, for which he is grateful. "Mrs Arnold seems unwell. It is probably best if she remains here for the present."

"Thank you." Then, since he needs to know. “You have taken Major André prisoner?”

Benjamin smiles tightly. “He’s on his way to Tappan, under guard by a troop of Dragoons.”

It isn't how they had planned for this to go but Benedict is sure Benjamin already has ideas for how to proceed. “What will happen to him now?” he asks. Peggy will want to know, at least.

"It is still to be decided if André should be treated as a prisoner of war or a spy," Hamilton says.

There isn't much Benedict can say to that. If he tries to involve himself in the decision either way it will not look good; he will have to wait to be asked.

When he doesn't speak, Hamilton looks surprised, again trying to meet Benjamin's gaze before continuing, "I believe the General will want to speak with you later."

With that, the aide steps aside to allow him to leave, though Benedict had intended to stay to speak with Benjamin privately. Instead, he slowly makes his way up the stairs to find Peggy. 

Between André's demands and now her obvious panic it seems clear where her loyalties lie, though he is still hoping to be proved wrong. He finds her sitting on the bed, half-dressed, her hair wild. Her eyes dart wildly around the room, as though looking for an escape, and Benedict feels uneasy. She looks back at him, reaching for the collar of her nightdress. "Please, Benedict, I'll do anything you want."

Benedict feels sick. What does she think of him to even suggest that? He had thought she had come to share his feelings at least, especially when she had been the one to suggest bringing their wedding forwards. Now he sees it for the act it was. Between her and André they would have played him for a fool, if he hadn't had his own agenda. No doubt they had always intended to be reunited and what would his fate have been? "There's no need for that," he says and when she sags in relief he can't help continuing, bitterly, "I've known about your history with André all along."

She pales and he feels vindictively satisfied at her alarm. "What are you going to do?" she asks, voice quavering

He takes a deep breath and pushes down his anger. He had never wanted her to be hurt, can't she see that? "Nothing. I forgive you."

Peggy's eyes flash. "What if I do not wish you to forgive me?" she asks. "Then what?"

That stings, the implication she had never cared for him, but he presses on. "Don't be so foolish. If you keep quiet, no-one needs to know your part in this. Leave André to his fate; there's no need for you to share it."

Benedict had maybe expected gratitude, or at the least resignation but her tone turns threatening instead. "I swear, Benedict, if you let him die, I'll make sure you regret it."

"And how exactly will you do that?" he asks, what does she think she can hold over him to coerce his agreement? "I'll make no secret of what happened, I intend to provide the full details of my contact with André."

She smiles and there is something vicious about it. "I'll tell Washington about your liaisons with Tallmadge," she says.

Benedict feels cold. They've been careful, she can't know, whatever she suspects she must just be hoping to provoke a reaction. He forces himself to shake his head. "You know nothing."

"Then it won't make a difference what I tell him..." she taunts.

It might not have the outcome she clearly hopes but Benedict cannot take the risk of even Washington finding out Benjamin's secret. He grits his teeth and forces himself not to rise to the bait. "I will make the argument for your sake, nothing more."

Her smile is cold and Benedict cannot bear to stay there. He heads down to his study but he cannot focus on any reports. Benjamin joins him there but they can only take comfort in the other's presence; they get no chance to speak alone. Hamilton borrows Franks' desk and works through a prodigious number of letters with no apparent concern, though Benedict suspects he will be reporting back to Washington. The General avoids him for most of the rest of the day, even takes his meals in his room where he is closeted with the Marquis de Lafayette. 

Finally, after dinner, Benedict is summoned to speak with their commander along with Benjamin. Looking stern, Washington demands a full explanation of how André came to be captured.

Benjamin steps forward first. “When news of his impending court martial got out, General Arnold was approached by a Tory in Philadelphia who told him they were able to make contact with a British officer who would be sympathetic to his situation. General Arnold agreed they should write him and then contacted me.”

"I see. And who was this generous individual, Benedict?” Washington asks.

He had feared it would come to this but he cannot lie to George outright. "It was a member of the Shippen family," he says. "For my wife's sake, I would prefer not to reveal their identity." He prays Washington will accept that.

Their commander gives him a hard stare. "Very well. And this scheme which led to Major André's arrest, how did that come about?"

Before he can answer, Benjamin interjects, "It was my idea, sir." He seems determined to take full responsibility.

"To set up correspondence in order to draw out an officer under a false pretense and kill him?" Washington's tone is cold. "Did you learn nothing from the matter with Lee?"

"If he had died no-one would be any the wiser," Benjamin argues.

Their commander seems to be barely holding in his temper and Benjamin likewise. Benedict realizes he needs to do something to diffuse the situation, turn their attention back to the immediate issue and not what should have been done differently. "We could still go through with the plan," he says. "The British don't know yet that he's been taken prisoner. Say he was shot trying to escape."

As hoped, Washington turns a frown on him. "You would propose killing a prisoner in cold blood?"

It would hardly be that, but Washington does not need to know the details, and if André is believed to have died escaping, Peggy can hardly blame him. "I would propose dealing with a threat now rather than later."

Washington shakes his head. "We will need to question him to find out exactly what he knows and how much General Clinton is aware of."

"Will you speak with him, sir?" he asks. He wants to believe André would not betray Peggy by revealing their connection but he cannot trust the man.

"I will not," Washington says. "Colonel Hamilton will conduct the questioning on my behalf, assisted by Major Tallmadge."

That isn't much better. He has never liked Hamilton and is fairly certain the feeling is mutual. Still, if Benjamin will be present to mitigate his zeal that is probably the best he can hope for.

Washington decides to postpone his visit to Hartford in favor of staying close at hand and orders him to Tappan as well, leaving West Point under the temporary command of Nathanael Greene. Peggy insists on accompanying them, though Benedict isn't fooled into believing it is for his sake.

The bulk of the army is still moving from their winter quarters and the temporary camp at Tappan is small. Although there are enough rooms for the officers present, with Peggy's threat hanging over him, Benedict meets Benjamin outside the house where André is being held, instead of in his quarters, and walks with him in full view of the camp. He doesn't need to give her any more ammunition to use against him.

It is clear Benjamin is angry as he launches straight into a tirade. "Why does Washington refuse to listen to reason?"

"He has to think of what's best for the army," Benedict counsels him. "What is it this time?"

Benjamin's hands are clenched at his side, his shoulders tight. "He says we must treat André as any other prisoner due to the 'irregularities' in his arrest."

"I'm sure he has his reasons," Benedict says, trying to placate him.

He has been discussing the situation with Washington too, except he has been on the side of Andre's continued survival. He cannot bring himself to tell Benjamin the truth about Peggy's threats, so he can't explain why he is taking that side but he would do anything to keep him safe. He has been careful to keep any mention of Peggy from the discussion, even though it makes his arguments sound like the worst sort of enlightened self-interest.

He has pointed out the others who would be affected if the full story were to come light. If André were to face trial, they would have to admit publicly to his and Benjamin's deception, as well as to the presence of a spy in André's own household, which would be her death warrant. It wouldn't look good for the Continental Army, he reasons, and it seems George agrees.

But not Benjamin, who shakes his head. "It's Lee all over again. He always want to believe the best of people."

Benedict doesn't want to get into the discussion of Washington's reasoning, so changes the subject. "What is going to happen with André now?" he asks.

"I wanted him to hang like Nathan did, but it doesn't seem Washington is going to allow that," Benjamin says. He takes a deep breath, visibly forcing himself to untense. "I believe the Major will be paroled and sent to Boston."

That was interesting. "Not Philadelphia then?"

"Definitely not. Washington isn't going to risk sending him somewhere there are known Tories." Benjamin hesitates, then continues, "Though, on that note, Hamilton says your wife tried to visit André today. I thought you should know."

Benedict clenches his jaw and takes deep breaths until the wave of jealousy passes. "Let her," he says. It hurts to think of his Peggy with another man but he will bear it; it will give him some leverage over her at least. Adultery, even with a British officer, might not be considered on the same level as sodomy but he is sure she will want to protect her family's reputation.

Benjamin frowns. "Are you sure? You don't have to..."

He is so grateful for Benjamin, how would he have got through this without his steady support. "Yes," he says, proud at how steady his voice sounds. Let Benjamin think he is being magnanimous. "I want her to stay with me because she cares, not because she feels she has to. I can't hold her if her heart lies elsewhere." Perhaps if he lets her go to André she will be moved by how much he cares.

At least Benjamin is affected by it, looking at him softly. "She doesn't deserve you," he says.

Benedict shakes his head. "I don't think she sees it that way."

In the end there is no formal trial; André is questioned and then a board meets to discuss the case. Benedict offers to speak but Washington turns him down, saying it is best not to complicate matters. Benjamin is present and assures him nothing is said against him. The official story is that André had crossed their lines to discuss a prisoner exchange and then been stuck there. His capture is deemed valid since he was dressed in civilian clothes and travelling under an assumed name but, as they are accepting he had crossed the lines under flag of truce, he will be treated as a prisoner not a spy.

Benedict doesn't see André again but Benjamin tells him Peggy has visited him more than once. She pulls away when he tries to hold her but, from the little she will say to him, they do not seem to have realised André's capture was a deliberate trap. She even talks about arranging a new contact before the British officer is escorted to Boston but Benedict is able to point out he is not yet entirely free of suspicion.

Still, at least he has Benjamin at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to go with the historical precedent of Washington refusing to speak to André rather than the show's very polite interrogation scene. Then I went over and over my decision on this one, trying to work out what André's fate should be but, in the end, I couldn't justify killing him (and I wanted to give he and Peggy the chance of a happy ending).


	12. Epilogue

Their plan wasn't a complete failure, from an intelligence perspective at least, since André is still out of the war and, as a prisoner, they can work to delay his exchange for as long as possible, but it has fallen short of Ben's goal to see the British lured into an ambush at West Point, where they could have won another decisive victory.

Even though Benedict's reputation has remained unsullied by the whole business, though maybe not entirely in Washington's opinion, he doesn't seem happy with the outcome, and it is more than sharing Ben's own disappointment about the downfall of their scheme.

Ben cannot blame him, as he isn't thrilled the British officer will live, but for Benedict it is clearly even more personal, now his wife's involvement with the other man has been proven beyond doubt. Ben can admit to himself that isn't entirely immune to André's charms but he never forgets what the man tried to do and, even at his most charismatic, he can't hold a candle to Benedict's bright flame.

Still, André's continued survival is itself only a small part of Ben's worries. When he thought he was going to be executed, André let slip that he knew Culper's identity, and commented that at least their spy would share his fate, since he had left a message with his servant for General Clinton. That has left him concerned for Abigail's safety in New York; without even the dubious benefit of André's protection, she and Cicero are vulnerable and they cannot risk her work being uncovered.

Although he is still angry with Abe for the deception with Townsend's father and his involvement with Rogers, Ben cannot let his old friend hang. He sends Caleb to him and, hoping that Abigail will have found a way to prevent, or at least postpone, the message reaching Clinton, Ben ensures all of André's correspondence is censored, in an effort to delay Abe's exposure until they can get him out of Setauket. Ben personally reads the British officer's letters until he leaves for Boston, alert to all the ways a message can be hidden in a seemingly ordinary note but he finds nothing.

Instead André fills his letters with inconsequential detail. Perhaps it is their own private code but it reads as though he genuinely believes General Clinton will care about his uniform or the food he is receiving. He makes no mention of Arnold in his correspondence and, since he hadn't disputed Benedict's version of events during his questioning, it leaves Ben uncertain if he is assuming Clinton will draw his own conclusions or if he doesn't want the Continentals knowing what he believes Benedict's true loyalties are.

As they argue that, as Clinton's adjutant, André is worth more than an ordinary Major, Anna has the idea of suggesting André sends for his servant from New York to serve him during his parole and shortly after, Abigail crosses their lines in safety where they offer her the choice of her immediate freedom or the chance to continue spying in André's household.

Ben wants to be angry with Anna, since it was Hewlett's survival which led them to this point, but she is the one who talks Abigail into continuing to play her role, even when the other woman is understandably reluctant.

Ben is tempted to lie to André about his contact in New York, as unworthy an urge as that may be. He even goes as far as mentioning Robert Rogers in passing to see how André reacts, and is interested to see a flash of indignation the British officer apparently can't control. Had it been Rogers' interference which had thrown his plan and, if so, had it been deliberate or pure coincidence? If Abe is to be believed, Rogers no longer has any love for the British but Ben cannot forget his threat.

When André departs for Boston, he leaves behind a sketch. Though he and Hamilton have been the Major's primary guards, Ben knows it wasn't them the piece was intended for, but his most frequent visitor, Peggy Shippen Arnold. Despite his own feelings on the matter, it would be cruel to keep it from her so he delivers it personally, to ensure she knows he is aware of her treachery.

Days later, Caleb returns from Setauket with news about Abe's narrow escape from Simcoe's vendetta. At least the Ranger is now far from Setauket in disgrace and, without André's sponsorship, he may be further defanged but so long as he lives he is still a threat.

At least with Abe cut out of the Ring and his family safely out of harm's way, the British will have no leads on Culper and, when he continues operating, they will have to conclude they were wrong.

He wishes he could share the reason for his relief with Benedict, since the older man still seems disgruntled by the way things have turned out. Finally Benedict confesses his concerns are not related to André but to the state of his finances, leaving Ben to ponder if there is a way he can help.

***

Benedict hasn't been cruel, has kept his end of the bargain. John still lives, even though he is now far away in Boston. Peggy is grateful since she doesn't know if she could have gone through with her threat; it would have ruined her reputation as much as his and then she would have been left completely alone.

She had been foolish to reveal her true feelings but the thought of John's death had panicked her. Peggy supposes she should be glad Benedict hasn't been arrested himself, that no-one seems to have questioned why he was meeting John or at least, if they have, that he has been able to cover his back. She wonders what excuses he has given Tallmadge, or is the Major so blinded by Benedict’s charm that he hadn’t questioned him?

Each night she lies beside Benedict waiting for him to demand his rights but he doesn't touch her. She supposes now he knows she knows about his deviance he doesn't feel the need to pretend either and isn't certain if she should be relieved or not. Had his passion been a lie? His touch has never been unpleasant, even when it was unwelcome, and now she finds she misses it.

Despite her ultimatum, she hadn't been entirely certain of the truth of it and Benedict's reaction had made her doubt further, maybe her imagination was just overwrought. But then the day after John had been sent away, Tallmadge had found her with a piece of paper in his hand. She hadn't wanted to speak to him but he had given her no choice. "Major André wanted you to have this," he said, holding out the paper.

Reluctantly she took it. It was one of John's drawings, a self-portrait. It was a clear threat, presumably a warning of what he knew if she were to try to expose him and Benedict, so she was powerless to do anything but thank him. She had defiantly met his gaze but rather than the gloating look she had expected, he seemed almost sympathetic.

Somehow that made it worse, that she had sunk that low, and she tries to pull herself together but sometimes she can hardly bring herself to get up in the mornings, feels sick to her stomach when she thinks of how close John came to death, and it was all her fault. When her courses are late she puts it down to the stress but the days pass.

They don't return to West Point and she wonders if Washington is suspicious of Benedict’s involvement; there is something in his expression when he invites them to join him for dinner. Although they have now joined the army in winter quarters and other Generals are accompanied by their wives, Benedict talks about sending her to New Haven or even back to Philadelphia. Peggy doesn't want to be sent away, certainly not to her family in disgrace.

She overhears discussions about what the army’s plans are and, though she doubts they will get the opportunity to speak with John, she can still hope. Benedict seems to be pushing for a field command, where she will be unable to follow him, but no doubt Tallmadge will.

Summer comes and, as the camp starts to break up, Catharine Greene pulls her aside to ask if she is with child. Peggy tries to deny it but Catharine is adamant, she has enough of her own to recognize the symptoms, and when the babe quickens Peggy cannot pretend any longer. 

She cannot tell Benedict either. Of course, the babe could be his but in her heart she knows it is John's. What will her husband say when she presents him with a fair-headed child, so unlike his own boys, she will be ruined and anything she says against him will be ignored as ill-will.

Peggy pulls herself together, there is no point in self-pity. Benedict needs her, the beautiful,young wife at his side, as much as she needs him and she will do what she must to ensure her and her child’s safety. She encourages him to push for the command he desires and gives in to his urging for her to head to New Haven; at least there she will be closer to John and perhaps she will soon be a war widow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is. Season 3 with canon (and history) thoroughly diverged from. All feedback welcomed, either here or over on my [tumblr](aleksrothis.tumblr.com)
> 
> I have some side pieces to write in this 'verse over the next couple of months and there's a possibility I may write a sequel when Season 4 comes out but it depends on where the series goes. I have some definite ideas about how the end of the war plays out for our intrepid spies...

**Author's Note:**

> All feedback gratefully received - I can also be found on tumblr as [aleksrothis](http://aleksrothis.tumblr.com/)
> 
> This story is now complete and I will continue to post a chapter a week until I'm done


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